A Slytherin in Gryffindor Clothing
by mahaliem
Summary: Complete! Draco hits his head and wakes up in a world where he's a Gryffindor and Harry is a Slytherin.
1. Default Chapter

Title: A Slytherin in Gryffindor Clothing  
  
Author: mahaliem  
  
Rating: R  
  
Feedback: Is always appreciated  
  
Pairings: Draco/Harry Hermione/Ron  
  
Summary: Set in Seventh Year. Draco hits his head and wakes up in a world where he's a Gyffindor and Harry is a Slytherin.  
  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all characters belong to J.K. Rowling.  
  
Thank you to Aoibhail and A Boy for beta reading this story.  
  
Prologue –  
  
The air crackled with energy, sparks swirling around, lighting up corners of the darkened room, and illuminating the faces of the participants. The ground rumbled, as if in anticipation, and a loud crack of thunder shook the room.  
  
"Did it work?" a voice asked hesitantly.  
  
"We must pray that it did," a second voice answered, "for it is our only hope.  
  
* * *  
  
Chapter 1 –  
  
It wasn't fair, was the first thought that crossed Draco's brain as he regained consciousness in a hospital bed. It had been the last Quidditch game for Slytherin in his last year, and although he'd been cheating, Potter had still beaten him to the snitch while he was knocked off his broom. He remembered falling, the ground rushing up at him at a frightening rate, then nothing.  
  
"Draco? Are you awake?" a soft voice queried.  
  
Glancing over, Draco was surprised to see Granger seated next to him, her face filled with concern. When she reached out to stroke his hair, he flinched back.  
  
"What are you doing here?" he demanded.  
  
Hermione gave a little laugh, which only served to make Draco lean further away.  
  
"Where else would I be when my boyfriend's hurt?" she asked.  
  
The Weasel had been hurt as well? Maybe the game hadn't been a total loss.  
  
"Well, scram, then. Hopefully he'll expire from his injuries. Go. You wouldn't want to miss his last inane rambling."  
  
Wrinkling her brow, Hermione studied him. "What are you going on about, Draco? You're not going to die. Though I am beginning to agree with you concerning the rambling."  
  
She would've said more, but was interrupted by the arrival of a tall redhead. Draco's eyes nearly bugged out when Ron Weasley gave him a wide grin and a soft punch to the arm.  
  
"How's my best mate?"  
  
Rubbing his shoulder where the Weasel had hit him, Draco looked at him haughtily. "If you were my best mate, I would walk to the lake and beg the giant squid to drown me immediately."  
  
Puzzled, Ron stepped back. Hermione rose to stand at his side.  
  
"Draco's acting strangely, Ron. I think he must've hit his head harder than we first supposed."  
  
"It's all Potter's fault," Ron said angrily. "You would've beaten that cheating Slytherin if he hadn't knocked into you."  
  
"What?" Draco sat up straight, eyes wide. "Potter's a Slytherin?"  
  
Ron's eyes twinkled and he gave Draco a knowing grin. "Now I know you're having me on. Next thing you'll be saying is that you're not a Gryffindor."  
  
"I'm a bloody Gryffindor?" Draco shouted.  
  
* * *  
  
It had been less than three hours since he'd awakened in the infirmary and found out that his life had been completely changed around.  
  
Despite his loud protests that red and gold did absolutely nothing for his complexion, Draco was forced into wearing the combination by Granger and Weasley. It was a struggle of epic proportions, Draco decided, if one discounted all the hair pulling and biting that he and the Weasel engaged in while Hermione watched on the sidelines. She'd finally ended it by pulling out her wand and stunning Draco.  
  
As the three walked to dinner, Hermione was listing possible injuries to Draco's brain that might have resulted in this change of behaviour while the Weasel (he still couldn't make his mouth actually utter the name 'Ron') thought it was all quite a joke.  
  
In the Great Hall, Weasley proclaimed proudly that Draco had hit his head and was now completely loony. Everyone thought it was part of some amusing game when Draco went directly to his usual spot at the Slytherin table between Crabbe and Goyle only to find Potter in his place.  
  
"Can't you see this table is for Slytherins, Malfoy?" Potter smirked, turning and rising to his feet to better confront him. "Or do you need to wear my glasses? Perhaps if you did, you might be able to see the snitch well enough to catch it."  
  
Potter was facing him, brash and bold. His hair was tousled as usual, but for some reason instead of looking messy, it made Draco think of passionate nights. His smirk drew Draco's attention to his full lips. He looked bad, and wild, and a bit dangerous.  
  
Damn, Draco thought, Potter looked sexy. This world was crazy.  
  
"What do you want, Malfoy," Potter asked. When he didn't receive an answer, he added, "What's the matter? Lost your tongue as well as your marbles?"  
  
Draco could hear the Slytherins laughing at that remark, Pansy Parkinson's nasal giggle standing out among the other chuckles and guffaws, and determination welled deep within him.  
  
Straightening his spine, Draco stared at his nemesis. That smirk Potter was wearing belonged to him. That nastiness was supposed to be his and his alone. He might be currently wearing the Gryffindor crest on his robes, but he was Slytherin through and through. And he was going to prove it.  
  
"What do I want?" Draco repeated, and then shrugged with a feigned air of nonchalance. "There's wealth, beauty, people who love me...but wait, I already have all that, don't I?"  
  
He could feel an audience watching him now, and he smiled brightly.  
  
"I suppose there's always sex."  
  
Slowly, exceedingly slowly, Draco let his eyes roam down Potter's torso, down those long, lean legs until he reached the messily tied trainers. Then, just as leisurely, he let his eyes travel back up, halting for a moment at Potter's crotch, then again at his chest, before meeting the hard green eyes that blazed at him.  
  
"No, there's nothing here that I want."  
  
There were a few gasps, some titters here and there, but most of the students watched in silence as Draco turned his back on a furious Potter and made his way to the Gryffindor table. As he sat next to Granger, conversations gradually began to pick up until the noise was at its normal level.  
  
Passing the rolls to Draco, Hermione said, "I'd suspected it for a while, but this certainly confirms it."  
  
Ron and Draco gave her questioning looks, so she continued.  
  
"Draco's gay."  
  
The juice Ron had been drinking shot out of his mouth. Wiping his chin with his sleeve, eyes bugging out, he said, "Draco woke up gay?"  
  
Hermione shook her head. "It doesn't happen that way. Although there was one instance in 1687 when the great wizard, Theodore Herbert Stonepot, woke up believing that he was Cleopatra. It was two years before he recovered, which quite devastated his many lovers. But that was an unusual case. Draco's always been gay."  
  
Hermione gave Draco a small understanding smile.  
  
"We're seventeen years old," she said sweetly. "Little kisses goodnight shouldn't be enough for you."  
  
Ron swivelled to face Draco. "Does this mean you want me for your boyfriend?"  
  
"No!" Draco choked out vehemently, horrified.  
  
"Just asking," Ron said. Then his eyes lit up. "Oh, look," he said happily pointing to the dessert that had appeared on the table. "Pie!"  
  
* * *  
  
Draco awoke the next morning and for a full minute didn't know where he was. At the sight of a freckled face grinning and leaning over him, he groaned, then pulled a pillow over his head and tried valiantly to go back to sleep. This had to be a bad dream.  
  
When Weasley yanked the pillow away, Draco naturally grabbed his wand, intent upon hexing the boy into extinction. Unfortunately, it was wrestled away from him by the combined efforts of Seamus and Dean before any lasting damage could be done while Neville lay on him, holding him down.  
  
There was a Longbottom on top of him, Draco thought mournfully. He hadn't known that he could ever sink so low.  
  
The humiliation caused him to only scream and sulk for ten minutes about having to wear Gryffindor colours. Then he was rushed through his hair care, despite his protests that one hundred was the minimum number of strokes necessary for proper maintenance, and dragged to breakfast.  
  
This time when Draco entered the Great Hall, he remembered to stay with Granger and Weasley, though he eyed Potter and his former cronies across the tables. When Potter caught him at it and glared, Draco felt much happier than he had all morning.  
  
In the middle of picking raisins out of his muffin and placing them in a pile that Weasley kept eating, owls flew into the room. Awash in a flood of letters, most of which were from people whose names he didn't recognise, Weasley nudged him.  
  
"Look. Potter's got himself another howler."  
  
Draco glanced over and indeed; Potter was holding a red envelope. But instead of looking apprehensive, the prat seemed pleased. He watched as Potter left the room, bearing the howler away to be read in private.  
  
No doubt about it, Potter was weird.  
  
After breakfast was Potions and upon entering the classroom, Draco immediately spied Professor Snape looking the same as he always did, greasy- haired, tall, and lean, berating a trembling student. Breathing a sigh of relief in gratitude that the world could twist on its axis, but Snape would still be the same old miserable git, Draco smiled widely at him.  
  
The cold, hate-filled look that was returned caused Draco to stumble.  
  
"Mr. Malfoy," Snape drawled as Draco caught himself before he could tumble to the floor, "I do hope that it's not too much to expect for you to show a higher level of co-ordination in my classroom than you did yesterday on the Quidditch pitch.  
  
Flushing under the Potion Master's gaze, Draco heard snickers coming from his right. Darting his eyes to the side, he saw Potter, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle quickly straining to cover their laughter with fake coughs.  
  
Throughout class, he could feel the Professor studying him and he found himself unaccountably nervous, although the potion assigned was simple enough to create. It didn't help that Granger kept whispering unneeded directions to him, while Ron kept trying to lighten the mood with unfunny jokes.  
  
As the lesson neared its end, Draco let out a sigh of relief as he gazed at his potion. Despite the strange situation he'd found himself in, his potion was the precise blue it was supposed to be and smelled exactly right. With a smug smile of satisfaction, he waited as Snape examined the results.  
  
"Barely adequate, Mr. Malfoy. Though I suspect the credit should go to Miss Granger for her excellent coaching."  
  
Draco saw red. "Adequate?" he shouted. "It's bloody perfect and you know it!"  
  
"Ten points from Gryffindor," Snape snarled.  
  
"Ten points! Just for telling you that you wouldn't know perfection if it came up and bit you on your—"  
  
Ron clamped a hand over Draco's mouth before he could finish the sentence and kept it there despite Draco's efforts to throw him off.  
  
"Twenty points!" shouted Snape.  
  
"Please, sir, you'll have to excuse Draco," Hermione interjected. "Since his accident, he hasn't been himself."  
  
"If he's not himself, then I can only expect improvement in the future," Snape sniffed, slightly mollified.  
  
The bell rang. As the students began to bottle their potions and leave, Draco wrenched away from Ron, still glaring at Snape. With careful deliberateness, he straightened his robes, and patted his hair back to its normal, perfect state.  
  
Weasley and Granger looked at him worriedly, but he gave them a dismissive nod, and they left the classroom, glancing once more at him before exiting. As Crabbe and Goyle moved past Draco on their way out the door, Goyle angled his elbow in effort to knock it into him.  
  
Malfoy knew that trick. He'd taught it to Goyle himself. Not only did Draco dodge the elbow, but he also took the opportunity of the raised limb to jab a finger into Goyle's sensitive ribs underneath. When he heard a yelp in response, Malfoy let a smile spread over his face.  
  
He was staying late because he wanted to have it out with Snape, here and now. Clear the air, so to speak. Draco opened his mouth to begin when he realised that Potter was still there, sidled up next to Snape, the two of them seemingly unaware that they weren't alone.  
  
"I received another letter from my father," Draco heard Potter say. "He and Black are currently carousing through Argentina."  
  
Snape arched an eyebrow. "And how are your father and his...companion?"  
  
Draco watched as Potter lowered his head, then glanced up at Snape through his lashes.  
  
"He seems quite agitated. He thinks that I may be embarking on an alliance that is ill advised. He states that I should back off immediately or he will be quite irritated."  
  
"And is that what you're planning to do?" Snape asked, his voice low and husky. "Are you going to back off?"  
  
Potter took a step forward, then another, until his robes brushed against Snape's. Tilting his head back, his eyes met those of his Professor. "You know how I live to irritate my father."  
  
"Oh, that is just sick!"  
  
Two heads swung towards him in shock and Draco was a bit surprised to realise that the words had come from him.  
  
Draco wasn't quite sure where all his anger was coming from. Sure, being stuck in Gryffindor with the Weasel and Granger thinking they were best friends was pretty awful. Yes, it was even more horrible that his actual friends hated him and his favourite teacher was now treating him like slime. But Potter...Potter and Snape being...no, he couldn't even think it.  
  
Grabbing his books, Draco hurried from the classroom. He was down the hall when he heard footsteps race up behind him. When a hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around, he wasn't surprised to see Potter standing there, slightly out of breath, a look of panic on his face.  
  
"It's not what you think," Potter gasped.  
  
"Oh, it's exactly what I think," Draco snapped back.  
  
"No, I mean, we haven't even done anything."  
  
Draco glared at the boy in front of him. "Yet. You haven't done anything yet."  
  
Potter shoved him, hard enough that Draco's back slammed into the stone wall behind him, then closed the distance.  
  
"What's it to you? Why do you care?"  
  
Doing his best to calm down, Draco took a breath before he replied with a sneer. "Maybe I'm wondering what everyone would think if they knew the Hero of the Wizarding World's little secret."  
  
Potter looked confused. "What does your father have to do with this?" he asked.  
  
Now it was Draco's turn to be puzzled. "My father?"  
  
"Yes, your precious father," Potter spat. "The one who betrayed the Death Eaters. The one who killed Voldemort. The one who died in a blaze of sacrifice and glory. You know, the Hero of the Wizarding World."  
  
His father was dead? Frantically, he searched Potter's face for signs that he was lying. Not only did he fail to find any hints of deceit, but he also failed to find something else. With trembling fingers, he brushed back Potter's fringe.  
  
"You have no scar," he whispered.  
  
Potter stepped back. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"You have no scar," Draco said again, louder this time. Shakily, he turned away from Potter and slowly made his way through the corridors and up staircases until he came to the Gryffindor dorms. When Weasley saw him enter the common room, pale and weak, he rushed toward him and Draco let him put an arm around him and help him to a chair.  
  
"Tell me," he said, voice quivering with pain, "tell me about my father."  
  
* * *  
  
His father was dead.  
  
Draco still couldn't quite get his mind to grasp that fact. Although his father had been incarcerated at Azkaban for almost two years, he still held out hope that the sentence would be overturned. Ministry officials, judges, juries, they could all be bribed - after all, courtroom justice was really only for the poor. But death was final.  
  
Weasley talked about how Lucius Malfoy had apparently become appalled at the ruthlessness and increasing madness of Lord Voldemort. He, Crabbe, and Goyle, had secretly switched sides to align themselves with Dumbledore. In a surprise attack, Malfoy had sprung his betrayal on the Death Eaters and a mighty battle had been fought. Many died. It was Lucius who struck the final blow, killing Voldemort, who died with a curse on his lips, before dying himself.  
  
If he'd lived, Lucius would probably have ended up in Azkaban. With death, however, came absolution, and he was proclaimed a hero - The Hero of the Wizarding World.  
  
Between Weasley and Granger, there was an abundance of information. Weasley told him that, as the Malfoy heir, he'd been dragged to every anniversary of the battle and put on display, made to sit on stage behind an almost endless number of public officials as they extolled the virtues of his father.  
  
It was when he was ten that Molly Weasley, attending a memorial with her husband for those who died, had spied Draco looking small and wan. After weeks of harassment, she coerced Narcissa into allowing Draco to spend some time with children his own age, and brought him home for a visit. His friendship with Ron had evidently grown from there.  
  
* * *  
  
Over the next few days, Draco began to notice more differences.  
  
He'd never bothered to learn the names of most of the students younger than he was. However, he gradually realised that many of the faces that populated his world weren't in this one. In fact, there was no younger Weasley, though both of her parents had survived the war.  
  
Quirrell still taught Defence Against the Dark Arts. Charms was taught by a Professor Josephine Waxington. The Flying Instructor was Professor Maxwell Hopper. With only a bit of trouble, Draco found out that Flitwick had died bravely in the battle with Voldemort and Hooch had been terribly injured.  
  
The classes were still demanding, but the urgency to excel seemed to have left the students. All except for Granger, that is. Mastering a subject no longer served to increase survival rates. Consequently, Draco was doing extraordinarily well in all of his classes. The only class he wasn't doing well in was Care of Magical Creatures taught by Hagrid.  
  
Hagrid, who now bore a deep scar that slashed across his cheek and walked with a limp, scared Draco more than ever. The only thing that made it better was that Granger and Weasley didn't seem too sure of him, either.  
  
"They say he's really quite gentle," Hermione whispered to him as they stood, waiting for class to begin. "I even heard that when the house-elves choose chickens to harvest from his flock, he absents himself, too tender- hearted to witness it."  
  
Although Draco personally doubted that information, he did have a memory of Hagrid upset over the pending death of a vicious hippogriff. Hagrid's teaching methods were still horrible, but there was no doubt that he knew his subject matter. As Draco stood next to Weasley and Granger, he wondered what new monstrosity they would soon be introduced to.  
  
"These wee creatures" Hagrid said loudly, holding up a ball of black fur, "don't tend to live long, only come out of their burrows to eat, and talk in squeaks and squeals. Can anyone tell me the name?"  
  
"A first-year Hufflepuff," answered Draco.  
  
Almost all of the combined class of Slytherins and Gryffindors laughed. Two of the exceptions were Potter, who was staring at Draco in shock, and Granger, who gave him a dismayed shake of her head, then raised her hand.  
  
"It's a shandle-pop," she said in a loud, clear voice when Hagrid called on her.  
  
"Right you are. And do you know why a shandle-pop is useful?"  
  
Hermione beamed. "When the moon is full, a shandle-pop excretes a liquid that in large doses is a depressant and can be used as anaesthesia. In smaller doses, it lowers inhibitions."  
  
Hagrid awarded ten points to Gryffindor for Hermione's answers then told the students to get into pairs to examine the creatures. Draco pushed Weasley at Hermione.  
  
"Go on," he urged. "Pair up with your girlfriend."  
  
"She's not my girlfriend," Ron said confused. "She's your girlfriend, except you're gay now and so you don't want a girlfriend." His freckled face screwed up as if in thought. Draco wondered how, if all Weasleys were like this, did there ever get to be so many of them.  
  
"She could be your girlfriend," Draco hissed in Weasley's ear before giving him another push.  
  
Fumbling and blushing a colour that came close to matching his hair, Ron approached Hermione. "Do you want to be partners?" he managed to mutter while staring at the grass at his feet.  
  
Hermione glanced at Ron, looked at Draco, did a quick mental calculation, and then smiled. "Yes, that would nice."  
  
When Ron's back was turned, Draco winked at her and was pleased when she winked back.  
  
Turning around, Draco was not pleased, however, to find that everyone else, with the exceptions of Potter and Neville, was paired up. Draco could see Neville making his clumsy way towards him and swiftly moved next to Potter.  
  
"Partner?" he asked.  
  
Potter eyed Neville apprehensively and nodded.  
  
They went over to the cages to retrieve a shandle-pop, then, with Harry holding it, walked away from the rest of the group.  
  
After five minutes of staring at the animal as it sat unmoving in his hands, Harry breathed a sigh of boredom.  
  
"It's just sitting there," he complained.  
  
"Maybe I could poke it," Draco replied.  
  
"It might bite me, then."  
  
"Like I said, maybe I could poke it."  
  
"Git."  
  
"Prat."  
  
Draco and Potter looked at one another briefly, before turning their eyes back to the creature.  
  
"Draco...did you tell anybody?" Harry asked in a voice barely above a whisper.  
  
"Tell anybody what?"  
  
"You know," Harry said, clearly embarrassed. At Draco's continued silence, he added. "About me and...Snape."  
  
"Oh, you mean about you shagging the Potions teacher?"  
  
Giving furtive, desperate looks around, Harry grabbed Draco's robes with one hand while still clutching the shandle-pop with the other, and dragged him several yards further from the group.  
  
"I'm not shagging Snape," he hissed.  
  
"You want to, though. Not that I blame you. I mean, take away that greasy hair, the hooked nose, the grumpy attitude, he's quite...No, never mind, he's still appalling."  
  
"So? Did you tell anyone?" Harry repeated.  
  
"Hmm." Draco said as if in thought. "First I told Weasley, who became ill, and Granger, who seemed worried that you might end up with a better grade than hers. Then I discussed the matter with Finnegan, Thomas, Brown, and Patil. I tried telling Longbottom, but the moment I mentioned Snape's name, he ran from the room in terror.  
  
At Harry's pale face, Draco rolled his eyes.  
  
"Of course I didn't tell anyone, you idiot. I do have other, more important things, to talk about besides your sordid sex life."  
  
"Oh. Thanks," Harry said quietly.  
  
Draco stared for a moment at the boy in front of him who looked so much like his hated rival. He'd learned that Potter's mother was dead, and from what Draco had gleaned from gossip, his father might as well have been. He was no longer the Gryffindor hero, no longer the hero at all. He'd been stripped of his friends, Granger and Weasley, and although he had Crabbe and Goyle, it hadn't taken Draco long to see which was the better pair of companions.  
  
Somehow, though, there was still something in this boy that was special. Draco knew it, even if no one else saw it.  
  
"Potter, about this thing you have with Snape," Draco ventured and Harry raised his eyes so that green met grey. "Don't do it. You're better than that. You deserve more than a tawdry affair limited to sneaking around dark corridors and quick tumbles in empty classrooms."  
  
As Potter looked at him, eyes wide, Draco found himself thinking that sneaking around dark corridors and quick tumbles in classrooms might actually be appealing. The silence between them lengthened to the point where Draco couldn't stand it anymore. He leaned forward and did something he knew he would probably regret.  
  
He poked the shandle-pop.  
  
It promptly bit Harry.  
  
Harry let out a shriek.  
  
Yes, Draco thought, life is good.  
  
TBC 


	2. Chapter 2

A Slytherin in Gryffindor Clothing  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Five days later, Harry was still glaring at Draco. Draco didn't know what Potter's problem was; there hadn't been that much blood. In addition, the resulting panic that ensued with the knowledge that the shandle-pops could bite had been extremely amusing.  
  
It had taken a good long while for Hagrid to calm everyone down and herd the class to a field not too far from his hut, next to the Forbidden Forest, to release the shandle-pops so that they could burrow down and wait for the next full moon.  
  
Draco was getting used to his new home in the Gryffindor dormitory. There had been an awkward moment when he'd put zeilder suction bugs in all of the seventh-year boys' beds but his own. Finnegan, Thomas, Longbottom, and Weasley had surrounded him with hurt faces and Draco had felt a strange feeling he'd never felt before and decided it might be guilt. The moment eased when Weasley started laughing and said that now he knew what to do the next time his brother Percy came home to visit.  
  
The other boys had begun to laugh, too, and Draco decided that even though Weasley was...well, a Weasley, he wasn't totally useless.  
  
From that point on, the boys took to warding their beds and attempting to play practical jokes on each other. Amazingly, it was Neville who turned out be the most ingenious in his pranks. Who knew that plants had so many irritating properties?  
  
Being on constant guard against his dorm mates was almost as good, Draco reflected, as being back in Slytherin. It was also quite wonderful that he could get Weasley to go along with even his most outrageous schemes.  
  
Granger, however, was getting suspicious.  
  
The girl knew something was going on, but couldn't quite figure it out. Lately, she'd taken to testing him, asking him what he would do in certain situations.  
  
"Suppose you see a first-year crying. What would you do?" Hermione asked.  
  
Draco squashed the automatic response of 'laugh and make note that whichever abuse I wrought worked splendidly' to reply instead with "Which house?"  
  
"Does it matter?" She arched an eyebrow as she watched him closely.  
  
Oops. "Of course not," he answered quickly. "But I would need to know where to take the sweet child after I picked it up and cradled it like a babe in my arms."  
  
Both of Hermione's eyebrows shot up.  
  
"Just kidding," Draco said weakly. "I would go running down the hall to see if I could catch whatever might have upset her." Silently, he added 'without first finding out any useful information like what it was and where it went.'  
  
Hermione smiled and Draco let out a held breath.  
  
Draco couldn't exactly blame Hermione for being suspicious. By all accounts, he'd been the usual 'stupidly brave, so much better than all the rest of you' Gryffindor before his world had changed. Now, however, he was a Slytherin in Gryffindor clothing and there were times when someone insulted his true house that he couldn't just sit by and listen.  
  
Usually, he was able to quell this impulse, but on the morning of the Slytherin and Ravenclaw Quidditch match, he lost control. It was breakfast and all of the houses were excited. Malfoy glanced over at the Slytherin table that seemed to hum with energy and felt a pang of jealousy. They were expected, with Potter's exceptional Seeker skills, to win and thus clinch the House Quidditch Cup title.  
  
Potter seemed happy, talking animatedly to Crabbe and Goyle as they piled huge amounts of food on their plates. Draco watched him use sausage links to talk strategy only to have them taken from his hands by his friends and munched on. Potter started to protest then paused, mid-sentence, and looked up to catch Draco still studying him.  
  
The rest of the noisy dining hall seemed to fade away as Draco and Potter stared at one another. The moment was ruined when a loud, rude voice nearby said loudly, "Of course, Slytherin will win. Potter cheats."  
  
Spinning around, Draco saw a Hufflepuff, he believed it was named Justin, but wasn't sure as Hufflepuffs were beneath his notice, spouting off to a group of his friends who were all nodding their agreement.  
  
"Potter doesn't cheat," Draco muttered.  
  
Heads swivelled. "What did you say, Malfoy?" asked Justin.  
  
Rising to a stand, Draco said in a cold, haughty voice, "Potter doesn't cheat."  
  
The Hufflepuff seemed a little disconcerted at Draco's defence of Harry, but he shook it off.  
  
"He must cheat. How else do you explain the fact that he always catches the snitch?"  
  
Draco advanced towards Justin. "This might be too much for your little mind to absorb, but has it ever occurred to you that Potter might be good?" Draco asked, his voice getting louder and harsher. "So good that he doesn't need to cheat? So good that he might actually be one of the best Quidditch players to have ever played the game?"  
  
Justin's eyes darted around, looking for allies in the face of this onslaught, but found that his friends were all as taken aback by Draco's defence of Potter as he was. Refusing to give up the argument he stammered, "But he's a Slytherin. Slytherins always cheat."  
  
"Slytherins do not always cheat!" Draco roared. "Slytherins cheat if they need to. Or if they think it will be amusing. Or they might cheat to simply see if they can break the rules and get away with it. They might even cheat as part of a larger, more nefarious plan. But Slytherins do not always cheat!"  
  
The Great Hall was completely silent as everyone stared at Draco. Even Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape had ceased their furtive whispering at the head table to stare at him. Draco sneaked a quick glance at Potter, whose mouth was hanging open in amazement.  
  
Dumbledore slowly rose to his feet. "Mister Malfoy, thank you for that enlightening testimony on Mister Potter's prowess at Quidditch and Slytherin honour. You may now be seated."  
  
Silently, Draco slunk to his seat next to Granger.  
  
"Now that was interesting," Hermione said.  
  
* * *  
  
A few hours later, Draco was still subdued as he walked to the Quidditch pitch with Weasley and Granger to watch the game.  
  
"Cheer up, Draco," Ron said, bouncing along next to him while carrying the sack Draco had handed them when they started out. "Not everyone thinks that you've totally lost your nut. Hermione and I don't think so."  
  
Ron looked over at Hermione, and then amended his statement. "Well, I don't think so."  
  
Hermione touched Draco's elbow gently. "Your speech was very impressive. It even made me feel guilty, as if I might've misjudged the Slytherins."  
  
"And you know Hermione," Ron added. "Always wanting fair treatment for everyone. You should see what she made."  
  
Draco stopped walking and tilted his head to one side as he studied Granger. "You made something?"  
  
"It's not much. Really."  
  
He held out his hand. "May I see it?"  
  
Flushing, Hermione reached inside her robes and came out with three, round, flat objects and handed one to Draco. Examining it, he saw that it was a green and silver badge with 'Support Slytherins Society" emblazoned on the front, a picture of a snake wound around the circular edge.  
  
"She's got it charmed so that every time Slytherin scores, the snake hisses," Ron said, proud of his new girlfriend.  
  
Draco lifted his eyes to Hermione. She'd made a badge for him. A badge. He loved badges.  
  
"You," he said, looking into Hermione's eyes, "you are a goddess, too wonderful for this poor, drab earth."  
  
Smiling widely at the praise, Hermione took the badge from Draco and pinned it on his robes, then leaned close to his ear.  
  
"And you, one day, will have to tell me what this was all about."  
  
When they reached the pitch, Hermione and Ron turned towards the Gryffindor stands, but Draco didn't even pause. Slytherin was going to win and he was determined to be with other Slytherins to see it. His new friends glanced at each other, then followed him toward where the Slytherins sat.  
  
As they entered Slytherin territory, Millicent Bulstrode stood to block their way.  
  
"What are the lot of you doing here?" she snarled.  
  
Draco smiled his most gracious smile, which in his mind was one of the most devastating weapons in his arsenal, then pointed to the badge on his robes.  
  
"It's fine. We have badges," he said as if this was a valid explanation, then moved past her. Millicent blinked a few times, then returned to her seat.  
  
Spotting a space near Pansy, Draco motioned for his two extremely worried friends to follow him as he squeezed his way in, the entire time ordering packs of young Slytherins to move out of his way. With a great deal of satisfaction, he sat next to Pansy, who gave him a dirty look.  
  
"One would think that the Slytherin stands would be safe from invasion from lesser beings."  
  
"Yes, I know," said Draco. "But I have it on good authority that Professor Snape frowns on the tossing of first-years out of the stands, so what can one do?"  
  
Pansy's eyes widened for a moment, then narrowed.  
  
"Why are you here?"  
  
Draco smiled at her indulgently. "I believe they're planning to play a game out there," he said, indicating the pitch. "It's played with an assortment of balls and is called Quidditch. You may have heard of it."  
  
"No, that's not—" Pansy began, only to be interrupted by Malfoy's cry of dismay.  
  
"This is not the perfect view. Weasley, sit here and I'll take your spot."  
  
Shrugging, Ron stood and he and Draco switched places. Ron was now next to Pansy and Draco's view was only altered slightly.  
  
"Oh, this is much, much better. You have my undying gratitude for the next three minutes, Weasley. Now give me my bag."  
  
Digging into the sack that Ron handed him, Draco pulled out an assortment of sweets while Pansy did her best to continue her interrogation of the interlopers.  
  
"What I meant was why are you...is that chocolate?" she asked, eyeing the treat Draco was now holding in his hand.  
  
"Why yes it is. Would you care for some, Miss Parkinson?"  
  
Pansy seemed mesmerised by the dark confection, then shook her head. "No, it's probably been poisoned, or something."  
  
Draco feigned horror. "Taint chocolate? Never." He handed the treat to her, which she bit into, then closed her eyes in ecstasy as the sweetness touched her tongue.  
  
"I would never poison chocolate," Draco continued, "except perhaps that piece."  
  
At Pansy's sudden look of fear, Draco laughed. "Of course it's not poisoned. Weasley, make yourself useful and see that Miss Parkinson and all of her friends have plenty of sweets. Oh, and be sure to help yourself to any that appeal to you, too."  
  
Hermione leaned close to Draco and whispered, "You've now gotten us past two challengers."  
  
"Wait. There'll be a third," said Draco just as Blaise Zabini walked up to them.  
  
"Is this some sort of plot, Malfoy?" he said, suspiciously.  
  
"A plot?" Draco sniffed with disdain. "Gryffindors don't plot. Gryffindors rush in where angels or any idiot with more than a handful of brains would fear to tread. Which is what I believe we are currently doing."  
  
Zabini stood for a moment, trying to figure out exactly what Draco had said. Impatiently, Draco waved him away.  
  
"Go, Zabini, or I will have a discussion with Miss Bulstrode concerning your latest escapade."  
  
A look of panic crossed Zabini's face. "How do you know what I did?"  
  
"I have my sources," Draco said with smug satisfaction. "Now, go."  
  
Hermione watched Blaise walk quickly away, then turned to Draco.  
  
"What did Blaise do?"  
  
"I have no idea, but he's always doing something. Mostly in a misguided attempt to capture Bulstrode's attention, but on occasion he goes too far."  
  
At Hermione's confused look, Draco continued.  
  
"Blaise has had an unrequited crush on Millicent Bulstrode since the fifth year. Unbeknown to him, she has a similar crush on him. He does something to get her attention, she, worried that it might anger him if she were to, say, smash his face in, does her utmost to ignore it. This only leads to him doing more outrageous things. It's all terribly amusing."  
  
"How sad," Hermione said, "and strangely repugnant."  
  
"Yes, isn't it? Blaise with his feminine airs and Millicent with her masculinity are definitely a match made in...well, not heaven, but rather somewhere with an interesting viewpoint of soul mates."  
  
"Are you ever going to tell them?"  
  
"Quite frankly, I'm scared to."  
  
"Why?" Hermione asked, curious. "Do you think they'll be angry at you for not telling them earlier?"  
  
"Nonsense. I fear that they might be so grateful that they'll name one of their progeny after me. Imagine - my name paired with someone from their loins?" Draco gave a little shudder.  
  
"Look," shouted Ron through a mouthful of chocolate. "The teams are coming out now."  
  
The Ravenclaws and Slytherins were getting in position when Harry glanced over at the Slytherin stands, then glanced back a second time. Draco waved wildly at him.  
  
"Hmm," Draco mused a moment later. "Perhaps I went too far when I talked of Potter's skills at breakfast. It seems as though he almost fell off his broom just then."  
  
* * *  
  
"I can't believe you," Hermione fumed at Draco as they entered the common room. "You were actually a bad influence on the Slytherins."  
  
"Yes, I was. Thank you for noticing."  
  
"Well, I think it was bloody brilliant," Ron said, flinging himself down on a couch.  
  
Hermione glared at him, then turned her focus back on Draco. "It was awful when the goal posts started dancing around shouting 'Slytherin rules' but when you, in an incredibly dangerous illegal act, put a love spell on Snape so that he began kissing McGonagall in front of everyone...disgraceful!"  
  
"A love spell is forbidden, dark magic," Draco said, "and I resent the implication that anyone could have caught me doing it. Besides, would you have preferred it if I'd had him kiss Dumbledore?"  
  
"Bloody brilliant," Ron uttered again, reliving the memory. "Thought she was going to hex him into little pieces when he tried to slip his tongue in her mouth."  
  
Picking up a pillow from a nearby chair, Hermione started to use it to hit Ron repeatedly over the head. Draco was about to sit down and be thoroughly entertained by their antics when there came a loud knock on the entrance to the room.  
  
Opening it, he was surprised to find Potter standing there, looking ill at ease.  
  
"Potter, you moron," Malfoy greeted him. "Why aren't you at the Slytherin victory party, getting drunk, using tons of illegal substances, and having lots of hot, wild sex?"  
  
When a flush began creeping up Harry's face, Malfoy added, "Oh, yes, your preferred partner is otherwise engaged, isn't he?"  
  
"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry mumbled.  
  
Draco clutched his chest in a dramatic gesture. "Aargh, I am wounded by your witty repartee."  
  
Ron grabbed Hermione's hands to keep her from continuing to pummel him with the pillow and raised his head to look at Harry and Draco.  
  
"It's Potter. What does he want?"  
  
"I believe that he wants me to shut up," Draco called back.  
  
"He wants you to shut up?" repeated Hermione. "I like him. Invite him in."  
  
"No," Draco said petulantly. "Potter came to see me and I'm not sharing him with you, Granger, and your wicked ways. See how you abuse poor Weasley...and Weasley likes it."  
  
Hermione and Ron looked at each other and gasped.  
  
Draco ignored their horrified expressions. "Please don't let me keep you from playing out your kinky sex scenarios. Potter and I will leave before you totally corrupt his poor innocence."  
  
Taking Harry by the arm, Draco exited and started to make his way down the corridor. They hadn't gone far when Potter pulled away.  
  
"I wanted to talk to you, Draco."  
  
"Good, because if you wanted to shag me against the wall, I'm afraid I'd have to say 'No' because I'm not easy." Draco thought about it for a minute while eyeing Harry speculatively. "Actually, that's a lie. I am easy. You may commence with the shagging now."  
  
"I don't want to shag you!"  
  
"You don't? Well, forgive my saying so, Potter, but you have terrible taste. I suppose you don't think I'm pretty, then?"  
  
"No. Yes. No...Listen, all I wanted to know was if you meant it. What you said this morning about me being really good at Quidditch."  
  
Had no one ever paid this boy a compliment before? Draco wondered as Harry stood silently, waiting for him to answer. With a few words, Draco knew that he could smash this boy's self-esteem, tear him apart to the point that no one would ever be able to put him back together. Unfortunately, it would be too easy. Draco never liked things if they were easy.  
  
"Yes, Potter, I meant what I said. You're a great Quidditch player."  
  
Harry smiled at Draco and Draco felt as if he'd entered a warm home after a day shivering in the cold. Draco wanted to wrap that feeling around him and stay like that forever. If only...if only the Harry in his world had ever smiled at him like that.  
  
Stepping away, Draco made a dismissing motion.  
  
"Now run along, Potter, and enjoy the victory celebration."  
  
As Potter began to walk down the corridor to leave, Draco called after him. "And don't let any of those supposedly sweet young virgins get hold of you. It's all lies. You'll wake up three days later, tied to a bed, smelling of lavender oil, and grinning like an idiot. Not that it ever happened to me, mind you."  
  
Harry gave him another wide smile and left.  
  
For some strange reason, Draco suddenly felt quite alone in the world.  
  
* * *  
  
NEWTs were coming up and Draco did what he had to do to get the best grade he could. First of all, he sneaked into the Ravenclaw dorm and stole their notes leaving in their stead photos he'd purchased from Colin Creevey of the Quidditch teams – taken while they were in the showers. Oddly enough, there was no outraged protest at the exchange.  
  
He recruited Longbottom into helping him steal Granger's notes when she went for a walk around the lake with Weasley by telling him that he was simply going to borrow them for a moment to make sure they were entirely accurate. It certainly wasn't his fault that Longbottom's skin had turned orange when he triggered Granger's wards.  
  
It was sad, really, how little trust some people had in their fellow man.  
  
As a last ditch effort, he studied, all the time bemoaning his fate, positive that if he were in his regular world, he would've been able to avoid it.  
  
The library was full of students preparing for the exams and Draco scanned the tables searching for an empty space. Weasley and Granger were ensconced in the Gryffindor common room, making googly eyes at one another, so Draco had decided on a change of scene.  
  
Terry Boot, a Ravenclaw, noticed him enter and indicated an empty seat next to him, but Draco, saw the painting on the wall near Terry, and shook his head.  
  
The painting was of his father. The first time he'd seen the portrait, when he'd been searching for information on what might have caused his change of worlds, it had taken him aback to see Lucius Malfoy so prominently displayed at Hogwarts. It was only when he remembered that in this world he was considered to be a hero that it made sense.  
  
The portrait had sneered down at him and the familiarity of the expression had made Draco's heart clutch. Force of habit caused him to straighten his spine, stare the painting in the eye, and return the sneer.  
  
"Libraries aren't really your style, are they father?" he'd said. "Pity there isn't a den of iniquity at Hogwarts for you to lord over."  
  
His father's portrait had smiled coldly and replied, "No more snivelling, wanting acknowledgement?"  
  
"Please. A Malfoy never snivels, though I am curious as to how you might react if I were to set your frame alight."  
  
Lucius' image had stared at him for a moment, before nodding his head with approval. "You might be worthy of the name Malfoy, after all."  
  
Draco had simply turned his back on the painting and walked away.  
  
Despite having come through the encounter no worse for wear, he had no desire to repeat the experience. Moving his gaze from Terry, Draco walked deeper into the library. It was at the last table, in the shadows of shelves, that he spied Harry sitting alone.  
  
Potter sitting alone, without his friends, Crabbe and Goyle, made sense. It was one of those immutable facts, the sun rose in the east, set in the west, and Crabbe and Goyle never studied. It was also an immutable fact that Crabbe and Goyle were idiots.  
  
Plopping down in the seat next to Potter, Draco spent several minutes spreading out his books, scrolls, and quills, placing them in front of him just so. After a moment, he rearranged the books and scrolls so that they were in order by subject. When he started to line up his quills by feather colour, Harry spoke up.  
  
"Most people actually open books when they study."  
  
Draco sniffed. "Malfoys are not 'most people'."  
  
After a moment of perusing the table, Draco said, "Potter, trade Potion textbooks with me."  
  
A frown appeared on Harry's face. "Why?"  
  
"I spilled part of a vanishing potion on my book and I need an unblemished copy."  
  
"And you want mine? Forget it."  
  
"It's not as if Snape's going to grade you harshly. Come now, be a good minion and give me your text."  
  
Potter straightened up in his chair and glared at Malfoy.  
  
"I'm not your minion!"  
  
"No, I suppose not," Draco sighed. You're much too independent to be a minion. Very well, you can be a henchman."  
  
Harry scowled. "You know, Malfoy, even though I'd never talked with you before, I didn't like you. Now that I have talked to you, I still don't like you."  
  
"We never talked?" Draco asked, shocked. "Not even to hurl petty insults at one another as a prelude to rolling around on the floor in combat?"  
  
Potter made a great show of edging his chair away from Draco. "No."  
  
"No duels? No stupid pranks, which were supremely wonderful ideas, though they failed miserably in their execution?"  
  
Potter edged his chair further away from Draco. "No."  
  
"No hexes? No joint detentions in the Forbidden Forest? No stupid and humiliating rejection of my friendship?"  
  
"Crabbe, Goyle, and I used to bump into you quite a bit going in and out of classes."  
  
Shaking his head, Draco said mournfully. "Sad, Potter, very, very sad."  
  
"Hey, I knocked you off your broom at your last Quidditch game," Harry remembered.  
  
"Accident or on purpose?" Draco asked suspiciously.  
  
"Um...accident."  
  
Crossing his arms, Draco studied Harry for a moment. "Well, we have quite a bit on our to do list then, don't we? I suppose we should start out with insults. You, Potter, are the poorest excuse for a Slytherin I've ever met."  
  
"Well, you're a pretty lousy Gryffindor."  
  
Draco beamed. "Why thank you. I believe that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."  
  
Harry huffed out a breath, exasperated. "Is this when we start rolling on the floor together?"  
  
"Patience. I never roll on the floor after the first insult."  
  
"You are an incredibly annoying, irritating, dislikeable wanker."  
  
"Why, Harry, you're improving. That was actually a half decent insult. Keep going like that and we'll be on the floor before you know it."  
  
Harry decided it would probably be a good idea to stop talking and study instead.  
  
* * *  
  
Looking up from his scrolls, Draco was surprised to note that it was late and the library was all but abandoned. Potter, next to him, had his head on the table and was snoring softly. He was tempted to leave Harry there and let him wake in the morning in a pool of drool, but decided instead to go with his first instinct.  
  
Quietly standing up, he grabbed the back of Harry's chair and yanked hard, pulling it over and toppling Harry to the floor.  
  
Harry let out a loud yelp and scrambled about for a moment, before getting to his feet.  
  
"What was that?" asked Harry, looking around.  
  
"You must have had a nightmare and fallen out of your chair," Draco said nonchalantly. "Quite clumsy of you."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Draco decided that even though this Potter was a Slytherin, he was much more gullible than the Gryffindor version. In his world, he evidently kept his Harry on his toes, made him more vigilant, a trait that might even help the git defeat Voldemort. And would Draco ever be thanked for it? Not bloody likely.  
  
"I believe we missed dinner. I don't know about you but I'm going to the kitchens to get something to eat," Draco said, gathering his things from the table, then turning away.  
  
Harry snatched his books and scrolls up as well. "I'm hungry, too."  
  
Together, they walked out of the library, down a staircase, and around a bend. Draco began to go down another staircase, when Harry grabbed his arm.  
  
"It's quicker this way," Harry said, pointing to a corridor on the right.  
  
"Yes, it is," Draco agreed, "if you don't mind getting caught. That corridor and the next are almost always patrolled. Don't you know that? Cra..., I mean I learned that the first week of our first year."  
  
"Usually I don't worry about getting caught."  
  
Draco stopped and stared at Harry. "Exactly how many professors are you putting out for Potter?"  
  
"That's not what I meant!" Harry said in a voice much too loud. At Draco's shush, Harry said more quietly. "Crabbe, Goyle, and I, we have something that sort of helps."  
  
Arching an eyebrow, Draco continued staring at Harry, waiting for further explanation.  
  
Flushing, Harry said, "It's an Invisibility Cloak, all right? My father told me he didn't have any more use for it so he gave it to me."  
  
An Invisibility Cloak. Harry Potter had an invisibility cloak. Suddenly many things that had happened during Draco's seven years at Hogwarts made sense.  
  
Draco smacked Harry in the head.  
  
"Ow! What was that for?"  
  
"You deserved it," Draco hissed.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"On...on general principle."  
  
Rubbing his head, Harry looked at Draco warily. "When I knocked you off your broom, did you go psycho or were you always that way?"  
  
"More insults? You're trying to improve for me. I'm touched," Draco said, before continuing on toward the kitchens.  
  
"You definitely are touched," Harry muttered, following behind. "Touched in the head."  
  
In the kitchens, Draco was pleased to find that house elves were more than happy to scurry around and dig up things for him and Potter to eat. One of them, Doppy, or Goppy, or something like that, kept wanting to talk, calling him Master Draco instead of bringing him that second serving of chocolate pudding that he wanted.  
  
"You should not be here, Master Draco. You should go," the house elf said.  
  
"Yes, we'll go as soon as I'm done here," Draco said, finally receiving another dish of pudding and taking a bite.  
  
The elf nodded. "Good. Hogwarts is dangerous. Home is where you should be."  
  
Harry and Draco looked at one another.  
  
"What do you mean, dangerous?" asked Harry.  
  
"Bad thing. Evil thing is coming. Coming to Hogwarts. It will be here soon."  
  
"How soon? Do I have time to finish my pudding?"  
  
"Mustn't make fun, Master Draco. It will come when the moon is full, and many will die."  
  
Draco took another bite of pudding.  
  
"How can you just sit there and eat?" Harry asked, fear lancing through his voice. "Dobby just told us that in less than a week, Hogwarts will be attacked."  
  
"What's to worry about?" Draco said, shrugging. "You'll just swoop down, do your bit, and save us all."  
  
Draco looked up to find Harry staring at him, jaw hanging open.  
  
This Harry had never been a hero, Draco realised.  
  
"Oh," Draco said. "Damn."  
  
TBC 


	3. Chapter 3

A Slytherin in Gryffindor Clothing  
  
Chapter 3 –  
  
"We're going to what?" Harry said, disbelieving what he'd just heard.  
  
"Spy on Dumbledore," Draco replied calmly, while rummaging through Harry's trunk in the Slytherin dormitory. "Spy on all the staff, actually. Now where is that invisibility cloak of yours?"  
  
Harry reached past Draco, found the cloak, and handed it to him. Draco immediately examined it with unholy glee. Pushing a hand under it, he watched in fascination as his hand seemed to vanish.  
  
"I don't know why we have to get involved."  
  
"Who else is there? Some Ravenclaw? A Hufflepuff? Please." Draco swirled the cloak around. "Oh, the things I could have done with this. Did you ever sneak into the girls' showers?"  
  
"No. Why does anyone have to be involved? I'm sure the adults are seeing to it. Maybe even the Ministry."  
  
"The Ministry couldn't see to it, whatever it is, even if it came with an instruction booklet." A devilish grin lit Draco's face. "Did you ever sneak into the boys' showers?"  
  
"No. Dumbledore."  
  
"You sneaked into Dumbledore's shower? You are one sick puppy, Potter."  
  
"No! I meant Dumbledore could handle this. He's supposed to be a powerful wizard."  
  
"I've never really seen him do much of anything. Do you suppose Granger and Weasley should come with us?" Draco looked at the cloak critically. "It's pretty small, much too small for four people."  
  
"Could you put the cloak down for a minute and pay attention?" Harry said, exasperated.  
  
Carefully, Draco draped the cloak on a chair and faced Harry. Once Harry had his attention, however, he seemed to be at a loss of words. He began to pace.  
  
"You're getting us involved in something that's dangerous, Draco. I...I didn't sign up for this."  
  
Draco knew quite a bit about Harry from his world. Thanks to Ginny Weasley spouting off about her rescue, he knew all about the Chamber of Secrets. He'd been in the audience when Harry had portkeyed at the end of the Triwizard Tournament. His father's imprisonment after the debacle at the Ministry had made all the papers. There had been other doings, some as far back as when they were eleven, which hinted that Harry had fought against Lord Voldemort year after year. He was The Boy Who Lived, after all.  
  
Draco had just never truly realised before that Harry had never had a choice.  
  
"You're right," Draco said quietly. "You didn't volunteer." Picking up the cloak, Draco looked at Harry. "Do you mind if I borrow this...just for the spying, not for anything else?"  
  
Harry nodded. Clutching the cloak in his arms, Draco left Harry's dorm, exited the Slytherin rooms, and headed toward Gryffindor.  
  
Draco was about to do something stupidly brave. He hadn't known that Gryffindor values were contagious.  
  
He only hoped that if he started liking red and gold, someone would kill him and put him out of his misery.  
  
* * *  
  
Draco stood in the corridor near the staff room, waiting for someone to open the door so that he could sneak inside.  
  
He'd considered telling Granger and Weasley about spying, but had decided against it. They probably would've wanted to come with him and there was no possible way for three to fit under the cloak. Two would be fairly tight. He doubted if one of them would agree to do anything without the other, so going alone was the only option.  
  
After a quick detour through Hufflepuff territory, where he charmed the badger over the fireplace to say 'Justin Flinches Fetchingly', Draco had headed toward the staff room to start his career in espionage after deciding that Dumbledore's office would probably be too difficult to invade.  
  
Hearing footsteps hurrying down the hall, he flattened himself against the wall and hoped whoever it was, would open the staff room door wide. When Potter came charging around the corner, holding a piece of paper in his hand, Draco was stunned.  
  
"Malfoy?" Harry whispered, glancing around.  
  
Draco watched as Harry consulted the paper in his hand, and then looked up, straight at him.  
  
"Malfoy?" Harry walked towards him. When he came close, Draco reached out, grabbed him, and pulled him under the cloak.  
  
"How did you find me?" Draco hissed in Harry's ear. He'd been right. It was a tight fit with just two under the cloak. Even pressed against Harry's chest, he wasn't sure if they were entirely covered.  
  
"I used this," Harry said, holding out the paper and Draco took it from him. "It used to be my father's. Sirius, my godfather, tracked it down and gave it to me as a gift when I started at Hogwarts."  
  
It appeared to be a map of the school, but something wasn't right.  
  
"What are these markings here?" Draco asked, pointing at them.  
  
"Those are secret passages. And see, each dot represents a person so that you know where they are. That's how I found you."  
  
Harry Potter had a map. A map that showed secret passages. A map that showed where everyone was.  
  
Draco smacked Harry in the head.  
  
"Ow! Why did you hit me?"  
  
"On general principle."  
  
Harry rubbed his head and scowled. "How come your general principles keep telling you to hit me?"  
  
Draco ignored him, studying the map for a moment. It looked as if a few professors and Dumbledore were inside the room and he wondered if there was a meeting in progress. Then the movement of a dot grabbed his attention.  
  
"Quiet. Snape's heading this way."  
  
Draco quickly shoved the map in a pocket, then, in silence, watched Snape approach the staff room. As the Professor entered, Harry shot out a hand to catch the door open. Quickly, the two students slipped through and edged along the wall to the corner of the room.  
  
The room was large, with dark paneling and wooden chairs. A large wardrobe for robes stood against one wall. None of the chairs matched, and Draco decided that with all the wizarding skills at hand, they still hadn't been able to come up with a tasteful decorating spell.  
  
The Headmaster was there, along with McGonagall, Sprout, and Waxington. Dumbledore was drinking tea with a plateful of pastries on the table beside him. He smiled at Snape, who greeted him with barely a nod as he sat in the chair next to McGonagall.  
  
"I do believe that everyone who needs to be here has finally arrived."  
  
Dumbledore's eyes flickered to the corner where Draco and Harry stood and Draco was sure they were about to be discovered. He pressed back further so that Harry was sandwiched between his body and the wall. They were so close under the cloak that Harry's breath spilled over his ear and cheek and Draco could feel Harry's chest against his back.  
  
After a moment, Dumbledore glanced away. "Severus, how is your research proceeding?"  
  
"Poorly. I have found out nothing that we did not already know."  
  
"But are we sure about this?" Professor Sprout asked. "It's quite possible that we're panicking about something that won't occur."  
  
"All the signs are there." Snape rubbed his forehead with a hand as if trying to erase a headache. "It would be foolish to ignore them. Damn Lucius for not being a few seconds faster."  
  
At his father's name, Draco sucked in a breath. Harry put a hand on his arm in an unnecessary effort to restrain any movement.  
  
"Now, Severus, the man died saving the Wizarding World. One should not berate his memory due to a lack of timing." Dumbledore took a sip of his tea, and then looked at Snape. "Have you had any success in creating a potion that might mask the parentage of the imbiber?"  
  
"None. I was certain that a modified form of the Polyjuice Potion might work, but have been unable to discover the correct formula. If only I had more time."  
  
"The Ministry might be able to—" began Professor Waxington, but Snape interrupted her.  
  
"Those imbeciles at the Ministry refuse to believe that there is even a threat. They still deny that Voldemort let loose such a monstrous curse, much less that the curse is about to be fulfilled. By the time they realize the extent of their incompetence, it will be far too late for them to do anything against the Progiscor."  
  
As the professors began to discuss the failings of the Ministry and various public officials, Draco found himself concentrating less on the conversation before him and more on the body against his. Harry's hand was still on his arm, but now the fingers were moving, feeling almost like a caress.  
  
The air under the cloak was becoming much too warm to be comfortable, he decided. That had to be the explanation for why he seemed to be having difficulty breathing.  
  
Once again, Draco strained to pay attention to what the professors were saying. The consensus seemed to be that the Ministry, whether by intention or ignorance, would be of no help.  
  
"Then we must do our best to insure that the children remain safe," McGonagall said. "The wards will hold, won't they, Albus?"  
  
"For a time. But while Hogwarts holds the children of Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Weasley, Potter, Longbottom, and others, the Progiscor will be constantly at the walls.  
  
With requests that Severus continue looking into potions while the others were to begin to quietly strengthen the wards, Dumbledore ended the meeting. Discouraged, the professors filed out, until only Snape and Dumbledore remained.  
  
"Severus, the last time we talked of the other significant concern, I came away worried that you were about to act rashly."  
  
"Something had to be done. Our previous effort obviously failed. Years ago, you stood aside and did nothing, resulting in catastrophe. I was not willing for that to happen again."  
  
"You have no faith in people, my dear friend." Dumbledore shook his head sadly.  
  
"Which has been entirely justified by experience."  
  
Draco wasn't sure what they were talking about. He turned his head slightly so that he could see if Harry seemed to know. He was surprised to see Harry staring at Professor Snape with a deep intensity. Anger swept through Draco. He was the one who should be the focus of that attention, not Snape. A part of him wanted to scream 'Mine, mine, mine!'  
  
With possessiveness, he shifted a bit, and then ground his buttocks against Harry's crotch.  
  
A small gasp escaped from Harry's lips.  
  
Smiling, Draco ground back again, and was met this time by a growing hardness. His hands reached back and slid up and down Harry's hips, before traveling farther to the curve of his arse.  
  
From what seemed like far away, he could hear Dumbledore and Snape still talking as he pulled Harry even closer. Draco felt tentative fingers creep across his abdomen and he rewarded the initiative by grinding again. He tilted his head back until it fell on the shoulder behind him. When he felt Potter's mouth on his neck, he let out a low moan.  
  
Damn.  
  
Dumbledore and Snape's conversation halted and they were now looking directly at the corner where Draco and Harry were frozen in their hiding place beneath the cloak.  
  
Snape was frowning, his eyes narrow. Dumbledore, however, was smiling.  
  
"I do believe that Peeves might be trying to play a trick on us." Dumbledore took Snape by the arm and began to steer him toward the door. "Come now, let's be off and spoil whatever surprise he might have in store for us."  
  
Snape turned toward Headmaster. "Before we leave, I must first know if you are going to interfere with my plans."  
  
"I won't intervene," Dumbledore replied, shaking his head. "But I don't believe any action on your part will be necessary. I believe the situation is resolving even as we speak."  
  
"I highly doubt that. The child needs guidance."  
  
"Or a good friend."  
  
Letting out a snort, Snape opened the door to leave. "Which is exceedingly unlikely when one considers the company the boy is keeping."  
  
The door closed firmly behind the pair, and Draco and Harry were alone in the staff room.  
  
Draco pulled off the cloak and took a breath of the cooler air. "I was beginning to think they were going to yammer all night." Turning toward Harry, he was surprised by the expression of hurt on his face. "What's wrong?"  
  
Harry backed away. "I need to go."  
  
"Go? I was hoping that we could maybe spend some time together." Draco reached out and stroked his fingers along Harry's arm.  
  
Harry flinched back. "Don't touch me. Just...just leave me alone."  
  
Spinning away, Harry yanked the door open and raced out.  
  
"Harry?" Draco watched the boy turn the corner and disappear.  
  
A heaviness filled Draco as he rolled the invisibility cloak into a ball and stomped back toward the Gryffindor rooms.  
  
Potter had rejected him. Again.  
  
* * *  
  
"Now you're sure it was a Progiscor?" Hermione asked, looking at Harry and Draco seated on the other side of the library table.  
  
"For the third time, yes." Draco sneaked a peek at Harry, who seemed intent on memorising the wood grain of the table.  
  
That morning, he'd given Hermione and Ron a rough outline of what had been going on, the conversation with Globby, and the spying on Snape and Dumbledore. He could tell that they were upset that he hadn't told them earlier and more than a little bothered that he'd been with Harry Potter instead of them.  
  
A meeting in the library after dinner had been set up. When he'd entered the Potions classroom a little later, he'd tried to pass the information about the meeting to Potter. However, when he'd edged up close and moved to whisper in his ear, Harry had moved away. Draco would've made another effort, but Snape had snarled for him to get to his seat, and then watched him carefully for the rest of the period.  
  
Standing in the corridor after class, he'd waited for Potter to emerge, which he did, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. The two boys were on each side of Harry, more bodyguards than friends. Draco intercepted them.  
  
"Move or we'll make you move, Malfoy," Goyle threatened.  
  
"I just need to speak to Potter for a moment."  
  
Crabbe glared at him. "Don't think he wants to talk to you."  
  
"Potter...Harry, it's important."  
  
Harry raised his eyes to look at Draco. "Fine, go ahead."  
  
Draco looked pointedly at Crabbe and Goyle "It's private."  
  
"Whatever you have to say can be said in front of my friends." Harry crossed his arms and waited.  
  
Draco made his voice as low and seductive as possible. "Remember the other night. That conversation we had during dinner together. I've been thinking about it...a lot."  
  
Crabbe and Goyle looked as if they'd been punched in the stomach while Draco smiled with false shyness.  
  
"Then what we did last night, it meant so much to me. But it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough. I need to see you again. Tonight. After dinner, at that table in the library where we...well, I'm sure you remember."  
  
"Um...maybe Crabbe and I should leave you two alone," Goyle stammered.  
  
"Oh, the two of you can join us tonight, if you wish. Hermione and Weasley will be attending, as well." Draco smiled as Crabbe and Goyle both took a couple of steps away from him. Harry, however, just gave him a look of disgust.  
  
"We'll be there," Harry told him.  
  
"Good." Draco turned his back on the trio and headed toward his next class. He heard Goyle talking as he left.  
  
"Harry, did we just get invited to an orgy?"  
  
Goyle and Crabbe were now seated at the table on the other side of Harry, both wearing a vague look of disappointment.  
  
"Never heard of a Progiscor," muttered Crabbe.  
  
"Bet you've never heard of a bath, either," Ron said.  
  
"Ron, don't," Hermione scolded.  
  
"It's just that I don't even know why the two of them are even here."  
  
"They're friends," Draco and Harry said simultaneously, and then turned to look at each other.  
  
"I mean, they're friends of Potter's," Draco amended hastily. "Besides, they were named as being in danger. It's their right. In fact, the only one named who isn't here is Longbottom, while Granger wasn't mentioned at all. I'd suggest we do a switch but I doubt we'll have a dire need for exploding cauldrons."  
  
"The point is, " said Hermione, trying desperately to get back on topic, "that no one has heard of a Progiscor. I've already spent most of this afternoon researching it and have found absolutely nothing."  
  
"Have you looked in the Restricted Section?" ventured Harry quietly.  
  
Hermione frowned. "We're not allowed in there. That's why it's called restricted."  
  
Draco cocked his head to one side as he studied her. "Aren't you Head Girl? Surely you can walk in and look around a bit."  
  
"If I could do that, Draco, then by the same logic, as Head Boy, you could do it, too."  
  
Straightening up in his seat so suddenly that he almost lost his balance, Draco yelped, "I'm Head Boy? Thought it was Weasley."  
  
Ron's eyes opened wide, but Draco ignored it.  
  
"Why didn't someone tell me? To think that I could've been lording it over everyone, ordering them to do my bidding."  
  
"And that's so different from the way you normally act?" Harry commented.  
  
"No, but I could've done it with authority. Why do I not have my own room? And my Head Boy badge. Where is my badge?"  
  
Ron cleared his throat. "You said you wanted to stay with your friends and that the badge seemed pretentious."  
  
"But...pretentious is good." Shaking his head, Draco said in disgust, "I truly was a Gryffindor idiot."  
  
Crabbe, Goyle, and Potter murmured their assent to that statement, while Granger and Weasley looked mildly offended.  
  
"Well, if there is information in the Restricted Section on the Progiscor, then how do you suppose I retrieve it?" Hermione asked. "It's not as if I can just walk in."  
  
"You could use my invisibility cloak," Harry offered.  
  
"Maybe you could just walk in," said Draco slowly. "All of you could, if you had a proper diversion."  
  
Draco turned to Harry.  
  
"Think you're ready to roll about on the floor in combat with me, Potter?"  
  
* * *  
  
In less than an hour, Draco had retrieved the invisibility cloak for Hermione to use, in case the diversion didn't work. The others would be on their own.  
  
Hermione had instructed Crabbe, Goyle, and Ron on where to search and the type of books that might be most helpful. The four of them edged closer to the Restricted Section, doing their best to look innocent, which was nigh impossible for Crabbe and Goyle to pull off, while Harry and Draco stationed themselves in the corridor directly outside the library.  
  
"What are we supposed to fight about?" Harry whispered to Draco.  
  
"Leave it to me. I do have some experience at this sort of thing."  
  
In response, Harry gave Draco a funny look, but said nothing. The strange thing was, despite fighting with Potter for a good portion of his life, it felt a little awkward to Draco to be doing this.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Draco pushed Harry against the wall.  
  
"I thought Slytherins were supposed to be cunning. Didn't know the lot of you were cowards."  
  
"I'm no coward." Harry returned the push much harder than Draco had expected. He also seemed much angrier than he should be.  
  
A small crowd began to gather in the narrow corridor to watch, but Draco did his best to act as if he didn't notice.  
  
"You were scared. You ran away. From me." Although this fight was supposed to be fake, Draco could feel real rage surge inside of him as he remembered Harry leaving him alone in the staff room. He clenched his fists in Potter's robes as he slammed his opponent against the wall for a second time. "What's the matter? Not tall, dark, or greasy enough for you?"  
  
Harry's eyes narrowed.  
  
"Shut up, Malfoy."  
  
"Or maybe it's because I don't come with the requisite parental disapproval. You want to tell Daddy to shove it when you're getting it shoved up your—"  
  
Harry's fist rammed into Draco's jaw.  
  
Stumbling back, still holding onto Harry's robes, Draco lost his footing and fell to the floor, pulling Harry down with him. He rolled so that he was on top of a furious, struggling, Potter.  
  
As they rolled, the growing crowd scrambled back to keep out of their way. Draco could hear Madame Pince's voice calling for the students to disperse, but doubted if anyone was listening to her. A few students were shouting encouragement as he and Potter threw punches at one another.  
  
The only problem was that he was holding back his strength and Harry wasn't.  
  
Frantically, Draco grabbed Potter's wrists and held them against the floor. Leaning down, he whispered, "Remember – it's not real."  
  
"It's not real for anyone, is it?" Harry pulled his hands free and pushing Draco over to roll on top of him.  
  
Draco shielded his face as Harry rained blows down.  
  
"I won't be used and discarded," Harry snarled. "I won't. I'll show you. I'll show everyone."  
  
Reaching out in desperation, Draco grabbed the back of Harry's head and pulled it close. He strained upwards until his mouth met Harry's.  
  
Everything stopped.  
  
Harry ceased struggling, stiff with shock.  
  
The students cheering the fight subsided into the silence of disbelief.  
  
The only thing that kept moving was Draco's mouth. He continued to kiss Harry for all he was worth. Pausing to breathe, he slid his mouth along a cheek to Harry's jaw, then back up to his lips. Taking the bottom lip in his teeth, he bit down, causing Harry's stupor to dispel and for him to pull back.  
  
"Not planning on discarding you," Draco murmured. "Though the using part does sound interesting."  
  
Releasing his hold on Harry's head, Draco let his hands glide down past shoulders and over chest muscle. "Might be up to being used myself."  
  
A fierce expression spread over Harry's face before he swooped down and returned Draco's kiss.  
  
The students surrounding them finally shuffled to the side enough to allow Madame Pince through.  
  
"Boys, this corridor is no place to...." The librarian's voice trailed off for a moment as she saw what was happening before returning in a roar. "Cease and desist at once!"  
  
Harry and Draco reluctantly broke apart and got to their feet.  
  
"What is the meaning of this display?" Madame Pince demanded in a high- pitched tone.  
  
"My apologies, " Draco said, trying and failing to hide a smirk. "Potter, clumsy git that he is, fell and I was helping by giving him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation."  
  
The librarian folded her arms across her chest and looked her sternest. "You don't need mouth-to-mouth for a fall."  
  
"You don't?" Draco feigned surprise. "Suppose you don't need it for a sprain or headache, either. No wonder everyone wanted to be my partner during Muggle First Aid Class."  
  
Madame Pince glared. "Go, both of you. Now." Turning toward the still milling students, she made shooing motions with her hands. "All of you, back to your studies."  
  
Draco and Harry hurried away, bounding down staircases until they finally halted at the door to the Slytherin dormitory in the dungeon.  
  
Avoiding Draco's eyes, Harry asked, "Do you think it worked? Do you suppose the others found what they needed?'  
  
Giving Harry a full body scan, Draco smiled. "If they didn't we could always have another go at creating a diversion."  
  
Harry flushed then glanced at Draco's face. "You might want to visit Pomfrey, for those," he said, indicating the bruises that were forming.  
  
"I'll get Hermione to heal me."  
  
"Oh. Well, I'd better be getting inside.  
  
Moving closer, Draco gently placed a finger under Harry's chin and tilted his face up. "Fine, as long as you're not running away. You're not, are you, Potter?"  
  
Giving Draco a small smile, Harry shook his head and turned away to give the current Slytherin password 'Victorious' then move inside the open entrance. Before he could take another step, Draco grabbed him by the robes, spun him around and planted a quick kiss on his mouth.  
  
"See you tomorrow, Potter," Draco said as he pulled back.  
  
A few minutes later, humming softly to himself, Draco stepped into the Gryffindor common room to be greeted by assorted cheers and catcalls from the students waiting inside. Unfortunately, he was only able to hex four of them before they disarmed him.  
  
Draco really, really, hated being a Gryffindor.  
  
* * *  
  
Ron plopped down on the bed next to Draco. "Rise and shine."  
  
Draco groaned and sat up. "Tell me, how bad is it?"  
  
"How bad is...oh, right. Well, you and Potter do seem to be the main topic of conversation."  
  
Putting his head in his hands, Draco groaned again.  
  
"You have to look on the bright side," Ron said quietly, placing a hand on Draco's shoulder.  
  
"I have become an object of speculation and I doubt if derision will be far behind. What bright side is there, Weasley?"  
  
"Well...you kissed him and he kissed you back. Which means you both like each other and that's good, right? Also, as a diversion, it was excellent. We found what we needed."  
  
Lowering his hands, Draco looked at the grinning freckled face near him. Weasley would never win any beauty pageants, but there was something that drew you to him. Perhaps it was that sense of solid reliability. Or it could be the almost endless supply of good will. Draco, personally, found good will to be quite annoying.  
  
"Weasley," Draco asked quietly, "why are you friends with me?"  
  
The grin slowly melted from Ron's face to be replaced by a serious expression.  
  
"Never really thought about it. You were just there. Didn't hurt that you were the son of Lucius Malfoy and wanted to be my friend."  
  
"So you're friends with me because of my father?"  
  
Ron shook his head, wrinkling his forehead with thought. "No, that's not it. You're a good mate, have a good sense of humor, always ready to stand up for your friends, but there's more. I suppose it has something to do with me growing up in a big family. You're an only child, so you wouldn't know, but in a family, there's always something going on, some energy buzzing about. You get used to it. It feels right."  
  
Raising his eyes so that they met Draco's, Ron continued. "You have that same energy. All by yourself."  
  
Draco mouth curved up into a smile. "So you weren't friends with me because I was brave and good?"  
  
"Worried about that a bit, actually. Seemed as if you were always trying to prove yourself worthy of being a hero's son. Now, it's like you don't give a fig. Like you've finally let yourself be who you truly are." Ron began to grin madly. "Too bad who you are is a git."  
  
Draco punched Ron on the arm. Ron, good naturedly, punched Draco's arm in retaliation, and then stood up.  
  
"Hope you're ready to go to breakfast, now, because I'm starved."  
  
"Go ahead. I'll be down in a minute."  
  
As Ron turned away, Draco spoke quietly. "Thanks, Ron."  
  
Ron nodded and exited the room, leaving Draco to get ready for the day ahead.  
  
* * *  
  
It was late that night when Draco opened the door to the common room and let Potter, Crabbe, and Goyle enter. He'd tried to ask Hermione several times throughout the day what she'd found out, but had been continuously shushed and told "later." This lack of information irritated him immensely.  
  
It hadn't helped that he and Potter had been the focus of most eyes wherever they went. Fortunately, today was not one where they attended classes together, or Draco was sure it would've been worse. He certainly didn't want to think what Snape would do during the next Potions session.  
  
The only real incident had occurred at breakfast when a Ravenclaw had begun a speech concerning the uncontrollable impulses and hormones of teenage boys. When a bowl of porridge was magically dumped over his head, Draco didn't even pretend innocence.  
  
Draco had stood up and declared that he was obviously just a victim of uncontrollable impulses and he was quite worried because some of those impulses were murderous. When wary glances were sent his way, he sat down, pleased. Consequently, there were no similar incidents during lunch or dinner.  
  
As the Slytherin trio entered, they glanced around the Gryffindor common room, no doubt noting differences between it and their own, before finding places to sit. Although Draco had made sure that there was an empty place on the couch between him and Hermione, Harry ignored it, to sit in a chair. Crabbe ended up sitting there, instead.  
  
Perhaps there would be time to talk with Harry afterwards, Draco mused. And if the talking turned to snogging, well, that wouldn't be bad, either.  
  
In the meantime, Draco kept his eyes focused on Hermione, who had a book open on her lap and was busy recounting the search through the Restricted Section.  
  
"...and so Ron quickly closed the book that had been shrieking and we were absolutely positive we were about to be discovered, but it turned out that no one was paying any attention because of Draco and Harry. Then Vincent found this marvelous book."  
  
Hermione turned and patted Crabbe's arm proudly. If Crabbe had been a dog, Draco thought, his tail would've been wagging a mile a minute as he ate up the attention. Ron, on the other hand, didn't appear to be as thrilled. Draco spoke up in an effort to diffuse the situation.  
  
"I assume that this book has information concerning the Progiscor."  
  
"Yes, and it really is extremely fascinating. It seems that three thousand years ago there was a powerful—"  
  
"Right. Cut to the chase, Granger. What is it?"  
  
"What it is, is a powerful entity created by a very specific curse. Although created by the curse, it can only come into existence when the planets and moon are aligned in an exact way." Hermione glanced down, consulting the book for a moment before continuing. "It appears at the point where it was called. In this case, that's the field outside of Hogsmeade where the final battle was fought. The Progiscor must fulfill the requirements of the curse before it can roam freely, causing destruction and terror."  
  
"And what are the requirements of the curse?" Draco leaned forward, so that he could see past Crabbe to Hermione's face as she answered.  
  
Hermione's voice lost some of its confidence, becoming slightly shaky. "It's a curse of vengeance."  
  
"And..." Draco prodded.  
  
"To kill the offspring of the enemies of the one who called it."  
  
The room was silent as that information was absorbed. Voldemort had called it. Except for Granger, whose parents were Muggles, all of them were targets because all of their parents had been Lord Voldemort's enemies at some point. They weren't even the only ones, Patil, Brown, Boot; the list was impossibly long.  
  
Draco studied his companions. Ron had paled, his freckles showing starkly on his face as he contemplated the annihilation of his brothers and sisters. Goyle seemed as if he was still taking in the information. Crabbe, next to him, was whimpering slightly, while Harry...Harry was looking at him. He figured the entire group was teetering on the edge of panic. Swallowing, he squashed the inner voice that was currently running around and screaming, and assumed his most bored expression.  
  
"You do have to admit, Voldemort did have a certain panache."  
  
The others stared at him and he shrugged.  
  
"It's almost poetic. His final gasp - causing pain, sorrow, and destruction years after his death. Reaching out from the grave to pull us into it." Draco's voice hardened. "Now, Granger, tell us how to kill it."  
  
Hermione stared at the page and read slowly and quietly. "There are four ways to rid the world of a Progiscor. The first is for the one who called it to rescind the curse."  
  
"That's out," said Ron, and the rest nodded.  
  
"The second method is for there to be no offspring of the enemy alive when the Progiscor activates so the curse cannot be fulfilled."  
  
"That one's out, as well," Harry stated.  
  
"The third way is for a wizard, a witch, a centaur, a goblin, and an elf, to perform a rite of banishment at the exact site where the curse was uttered." Hermione lifted her head. "This one is doable...just not by us."  
  
"I suppose it's too much to hope for that the fourth way is for us to hit it on the head and say, "Go away," drawled Draco.  
  
Hermione shook her head. "The final method is for the Progiscor to be killed by the stare of a basilisk."  
  
Draco began to laugh.  
  
"He's gone loony again," whispered Ron.  
  
Crabbe shifted slightly away from him while Goyle stared at Draco in fascination as he continued to laugh.  
  
"He's hysterical," said Hermione.  
  
Harry stood and moved towards Draco, then looked at Hermione questioningly. "Should I slap him out of it?"  
  
That sobered Draco instantly. "There will be no slapping, or at least none done by anyone but me. I'm simply laughing because I was under the impression that getting rid of the Progiscor might be difficult."  
  
The others looked at him in confusion.  
  
"You see," Draco continued, "I just happen to know where there's a basilisk."  
  
TBC 


	4. Chapter 4

A Slytherin in Gryffindor Clothing  
  
Chapter 4  
  
"You look like crap." Harry glanced behind Draco to Ron and Hermione as the three entered the Great Hall for breakfast. "What's he been doing?"  
  
"You mean besides muttering to himself, pacing back and forth, and scribbling on what must have been a hundred scrolls?" Ron asked.  
  
"Potter, you shallow thing. I always thought looks never mattered to you, which did explain your choices of hairstyle and clothing." Draco brushed past Harry to sit at the Slytherin table, ignoring the dirty looks of Bulstrode and Parkinson, so that he could focus on making a rude gesture at Zabini.  
  
Hermione and Ron looked at one another, then followed Draco to the absolutely wrong table. Crabbe smiled and made room for Hermione while Goyle simply huffed and pulled a chair out next to him for Ron.  
  
Ron helped himself to a huge serving of eggs, before passing the platter on. "He was up all night. I think half the Gryffindors wanted to kill him just so that they could get some sleep."  
  
Draco, surveying his surroundings, beamed. "Back at the Slytherin table, Gryffindors wanting to kill me...ah, good times. If you must know, I was up working on a Plan. A Plan to save all of us."  
  
Ron added a pile of sausage to his plate. "I read one of your scrolls. Green sheets, green silk underwear, hair gel, oil – don't know how that's going to save us."  
  
"That," Draco said, haughtily while stirring a cup of tea, "was my shopping list."  
  
"Oh, good," Hermione let out a relieved sigh and helped herself to a muffin from the plate Crabbe was holding out to her. "I read one, too. Mine said things like "muggle cameras and a large ham."  
  
"That," Draco said, even more haughtily than before," is part of my Plan."  
  
Ron slid a few slices of tomatoes onto his plate then grabbed some toast to add to the growing mound. "Is this the plan you were muttering about that involved staking Neville out on the Quidditch pitch with a sign saying "Eat me'?"  
  
Draco waved a hand dismissively. "No. I decided that, knowing Longbottom, he'd botch up being eaten somehow. My current plan is much better."  
  
Harry sat back and stared at Draco next to him, who was sipping his tea contentedly, Crabbe, who was trying to tempt Hermione with a croissant, and Goyle, who was staring at Ron and his overflowing plate as if he'd met his god, and wondered at what point exactly his life had been turned upside down.  
  
A moment later, Harry felt Draco's hand slide onto his thigh and decided that maybe it didn't matter.  
  
* * *  
  
Draco caught Snape glaring at him as he entered Potions class a few steps ahead of his friends and gave him a smirk in return. Stopping at his usual spot, Harry went past him to get to his own seat, and Draco patted Harry's arse possessively. Potter let out a surprised yelp, then gave him a lopsided grin.  
  
Snape's glare grew several notches in intensity.  
  
The rest of the class filed in and Snape took his customary place at the front of the room.  
  
"Today, you will be working on creating a Purifying Potion. This will most certainly be on the Potions NEWT exam. Once correctly completed, the potion is quite safe. However, due to its unstable nature during its preparation, I must insist that you exercise due caution. It would be most unpleasant if any of you were to perish and waste all the knowledge I've spent seven long years attempting to force into your tiny minds. The instructions are on the board. You may choose your partners now."  
  
The students began to pair up. Ron edged toward Draco, who pushed him toward Hermione. Turning away, Draco spied the person he wanted to work with standing alone, scanning the directions, petrified.  
  
"Longbottom," Draco said loudly, causing several heads to turn as he walked toward Neville. "You're my partner. Now make yourself useful and gather the ingredients."  
  
Startled, Neville swallowed, then quickly nodded before hurrying toward the supplies.  
  
Neville wasn't the only one shocked at Draco's choice. Several students were staring, including Potter, who was partnered with Goyle, while Crabbe teamed up with Nott.  
  
As Draco and Neville carefully began dicing and measuring the ingredients, Snape approached and studied them for a moment before speaking.  
  
"Mister Malfoy, I had heard rumours that your recent head injury has caused aberrations in your behaviour. I see it is true."  
  
Without pausing in his work, Draco replied. "I'd think that a Professor wouldn't listen to rumours. Or show an interest in the personal lives of his students, for that matter."  
  
"Although I have little desire to know any of you, Dumbledore does encourage the staff to be aware of what is occurring on school grounds."  
  
"Little desire?" Draco repeated, straightening up and looking pointedly from Snape to Harry and back again. "I'm pleased to hear that."  
  
Snape also glanced at Harry, who was now watching the two of them uneasily, then refocused on Draco. "However, occasionally something so compelling arises that I feel the need to take matters in hand."  
  
Draco's expression hardened. "You stay away."  
  
The smile Snape gave him in return sent shivers down his spine. "And you, Mister Malfoy, should remember that you are a merely a student here and in no position to dictate terms."  
  
Fuming, Draco watched as Snape stalked toward Harry, who was feigning concentration on the assignment.  
  
"Look!" Neville said excitedly next to him. "The potion – it's glowing white, just like it's supposed to."  
  
Snape was leaning over Harry, now, and, to the casual observer, was merely examining the substance in the cauldron. However, Draco could see how close their bodies were and how Harry was flushing in response.  
  
"I did it!" Neville was crowing. "I actually brewed a potion perfectly."  
  
As Draco seethed, Snape's hand came to rest on Harry's hip. This wasn't right. Nothing was working out the way it was supposed to.  
  
With a cry of frustration, Draco hurled the cauldron next to him against the wall, burning his hands in the process.  
  
All work and conversation halted as the cauldron clattered onto the floor and the potion purified the stone wall as it trickled down.  
  
A furious Snape pulled away from Harry. A stricken Neville collapsed in a stunned heap on the floor. A defiant Draco faced his Potions teacher.  
  
"It slipped," he deadpanned.  
  
"Twenty points from Gryffindor and two nights detention," snarled Snape.  
  
Draco cradled his injured hands and slowly smiled. Things were looking up.  
  
* * *  
  
"I'm still not sure about this. It seems awfully risky." Hermione was holding a Flying-Replying, a device wizards used to communicate over distances, that the Weasley twins had sent to Ron at his request, but she was looking at Draco.  
  
Draco had spent the prior night in detention under Snape's baleful gaze. Despite Granger and Weasley's prying, he'd refused to disclose the reasons for the scene he'd caused during Potions, saying only that it was necessary. He still had one more night of detention left.  
  
He and Hermione were currently in the Slytherin boys' dormitory and Draco felt at home, but Hermione was obviously not nearly as comfortable. While Draco lounged on Potter's bed, which in his world had belonged to him, Hermione kept sitting down, only to stand up a moment later. She would pick up the book they'd stolen from the Restricted Section of the library only to place it back down without actually reading anything.  
  
"I don't know why'd you think it's risky." Draco said. "Just because we're dealing with a basilisk that can kill us and a Progiscor trying to kill us doesn't mean it's risky."  
  
"I stand corrected. I should've said death-defying." Hermione picked up the Flying-Replying and stuck the round piece in her ear. "We should probably test these out again. If they break down, you won't be able to hear us. Then you truly will be flying blind."  
  
Draco got to his feet, walked to where Hermione stood, and gently removed the device from her ear. "We've tested them three times. Even when Harry and I flew miles past Hogsmeade, we could still hear you and Ron in the castle perfectly."  
  
"It wouldn't hurt to do it one more—"  
  
"Granger. Stop."  
  
"I can't help it. Do you know what Ron gave me an hour ago? A letter he'd written to his parents. He told me if anything happens to him, I should make sure they get it. Crabbe and Goyle both gave me notes last night."  
  
"That reminds me..." Draco dug into his pocket and handed Hermione an envelope.  
  
Hermione glanced at it, then quickly looked up to examine his face. "It's addressed to me."  
  
"So it is."  
  
"Shouldn't this be for your mother?"  
  
"Remember the day of the Slytherin-Ravenclaw match? You asked for me to one day explain everything. Seeing how there is an extremely slight possibility that I might be unable to do so, I've written it down for you."  
  
"Draco, you didn't have to--"  
  
"I wanted to. There are things that you don't know about; things you'll never know. But I do need to tell you this: I have appreciated our friendship."  
  
Cupping her chin with his hand, Draco leaned forward and pressed a light kiss on Hermione's lips. At that moment, the door to the dormitory opened and Ron, Harry, Crabbe, and Goyle spilled into the room.  
  
"What's this, Malfoy? After my girl?" Ron teased as the couple broke apart.  
  
Smiling Draco looped his arm around Hermione's waist, pulling her close. "It's all part of my evil plot."  
  
"What's your plot supposed to accomplish?"  
  
Shrugging, Draco released Hermione and returned to Potter's bed, flinging himself down on it. "Haven't quite figured that part out yet. But it will be brilliant, I guarantee it."  
  
Walking up to his bed, Harry stared down at the blond currently laid out on it. "Move."  
  
Draco in response stretched, lifting his arms above his head and arching, before relaxing back with a satisfied air.  
  
Harry gulped, then, with renewed determination, nudged Draco in the ribs. "I meant get your carcass off my bed."  
  
Lazy, smoky eyes rose to meet Harry's. "I could be persuaded to share it."  
  
Before Harry could think of a reply, Crabbe asked Hermione if she'd discovered anything else about the Progiscor from the book he'd found.  
  
"No," she answered, shaking her head. "What did you boys find out?"  
  
"Its just as we suspected," said Ron, pushing Draco's feet off the end of the bed and sitting down. " They're planning to gather us all in the dungeons tomorrow night for our protection. No one's saying anything about the Progiscor, though." Ron bounced up and down, then frowned. "Hey, these mattresses are softer than ours."  
  
"Slytherins have the best of everything," Draco drawled proudly as he stuck his feet in Ron's lap, where they were quickly pushed off.  
  
The others stared at him and Draco realised that, once again, he'd said the wrong thing.  
  
"That's...that's because Slytherins need them, since Slytherins are...soft and not tough, and manly like us Gryffindors."  
  
Harry pushed at his shoulder. "Get your tough and manly arse off of my bed."  
  
With a show of reluctance, Draco rolled off the mattress and stood. "Might as well. We do need to start practising, Potter. Hermione, in our absence I expect for you to continue coaching Weasley, Crabbe, and Goyle."  
  
Ron groaned. "You don't know her, Draco. She can be so mean. She said my wall looked as if it were made of custard."  
  
"You think she's mean? Would you rather I coach you, Weasley?" Draco asked, his voice low and silky.  
  
Ron shook his head vigorously. "No, that's okay. Really it is."  
  
"Good, so glad we understand one another. Come, Potter, let's be off." Draco started for the door, then paused. "Crabbe, Goyle, last night in detention Snape acted rather odd. Tonight I'd like for you to come for me at ten o'clock sharp."  
  
Vince and Gregory glanced at Harry, who gave them his tacit permission with a nod, before they agreed. Hermione, however, was frowning at this exchange. She started to say something, but Draco held up a hand, stopping her.  
  
"Leave it alone, Granger. Believe me, sometimes knowledge is not a good thing."  
  
With a swirl of his robes, Draco strode out the door, Harry following in his wake.  
  
* * *  
  
"Serpentsortia."  
  
A large snake emerged from Draco's wand and slithered on the grass of the field near Hagrid's hut and the Forbidden Forest where they'd let the shandle-pops from Care of Magical Creatures class burrow.  
  
Harry backed away from it. "Do we have to do this again?"  
  
"It'd be easier if you were a Parselmouth. Are you sure you can't talk to snakes?"  
  
Eyeing the creature as if it was poisonous, which it was, Harry replied. "Positive."  
  
Draco shrugged. "No help for it, then. Good thing you're only my back up. Now transfigure that stone in your hand to a mouse." Draco glanced at the snake. "Do hurry up. It appears to be growing agitated."  
  
As Harry waved his wand, chanting a spell, a mouse replaced the stone in his hand.  
  
"Perfect. Hold it out by its tail and repeat after me." Draco emitted a hissing noise which Harry did his best to copy.  
  
The snake stopped coiling itself in the grass and began to move toward the mouse that Harry held out.  
  
"That's right, that's right. Now say the other phrase we've been practising."  
  
Again, Harry hissed. The snake stopped, then raised its head and opened its mouth expectantly. Harry dropped the mouse, which the snake caught in mid-air, and then uneasily edged away from it.  
  
Waving his wand, Draco said, "Evanesco," and the snake, still swallowing it's meal, vanished.  
  
Harry, breathing a sigh of relief, sank onto the grass. "Can we quit, now?"  
  
"Suppose so, since you've done it three times without fouling it up." Draco lowered himself to the ground next to Harry.  
  
"How'd you learn Parseltongue, anyway?" Harry asked.  
  
Leaning back until he was propped on his elbows, Draco paused for a moment before replying.  
  
"There was a person I once knew who was a Parselmouth."  
  
"A friend?"  
  
"Definitely not."  
  
"A lover?"  
  
Draco ignored the question. "I couldn't stand the thought that he knew something that I didn't."  
  
"Because you're a brat."  
  
"Because I have an unquenchable thirst for knowledge."  
  
"And because you're brat," Harry said with a grin.  
  
"Therefore, I approached my fa...my favourite relative with the idea that I should be taught. I convinced him by—"  
  
"Whining, begging, pleading."  
  
"Stating my case, clearly and concisely and he soon saw the benefit."  
  
"The main one being that you would shut up."  
  
Sitting up straight and folding his arms across his chest, Draco frowned at Harry. "Do you want to hear this or not?"  
  
Harry uttered an insincere "Sorry".  
  
Draco eyed Harry suspiciously, before continuing. "A portrait of Nathaniel P. Meltmont, a known Parselmouth, was found. We requested that he teach me. At first he was reluctant, but soon saw that it was in his best interest to do as we wished."  
  
Harry looked startled. "Did you torture a painting?"  
  
"Of course not. That would be...crude. In fact, Mr. Meltmont's portrait is in excellent condition and is now residing next to a painting of several ladies of questionable virtue. But I did manage to learn a few phrases and spent most of the summer after turning thirteen outside, practising with garden snakes."  
  
"Oh." Harry thought for a moment. "What happened to him?"  
  
At Draco's look of confusion, Harry added, "The one who spoke Parseltongue. The one you were jealous of."  
  
"He realised that he was a complete and utter git and died of mortification."  
  
"No, really...what happened?"  
  
Draco took a deep breath, and pondered ways to answer as Harry watched him curiously. Finally, Draco sighed. "He went about his life and I went about mine with both of us hating the other without even thinking of the reasons why any more."  
  
"Well, that's pretty stupid. You could try being friends."  
  
Shaking his head, Draco replied, "That's impossible."  
  
"Nothing's impossible. We're friends, aren't we? And if the two of us can be friends, then anything's possible."  
  
Bemused at Harry's attitude, Draco slowly shook his head. "How in the world did you ever get sorted into Slytherin?"  
  
Immediately Harry stiffened, the smile dropping from his face to be replaced with an expression as hard as stone. "I don't want to talk about it."  
  
Arching an eyebrow at the sudden change, Draco wondered what sore spot he'd managed to poke. Filing that question away, he decided to avoid the subject for the time being.  
  
"In any case, the point is probably moot now. Even if we survive the Progiscor, it's highly unlikely that I'll ever see him again."  
  
Draco watched as his companion began pulling grass out by the roots, letting the blades fall from his fingers, only to pull out another handful. Something was bothering Harry. He decided that he should probably coax it out of the boy; subtly find out what was worrying him.  
  
"What's got your knickers in a twist?" Draco did not do subtle.  
  
"I don't like your plan."  
  
"My plan is brilliant. A masterpiece of cunning. All of you should bow before my greatness."  
  
"It's going to get you killed."  
  
"A minor imperfection."  
  
"I'm serious. You're going to die."  
  
"Why, Potter, I didn't know you cared."  
  
Exasperated, Harry flung himself against Draco, knocking him flat on his back in the grass, with Harry sprawled on top of him.  
  
"I care. I...care a lot."  
  
Draco realised he'd seen that same look of determination that Harry was wearing before. The Harry in his old world usually wore it when he wanted to pound Draco into the ground instead of...wanting to pound him into the ground. As their eyes met, it occurred to him that he now had the freedom to touch without resorting to fists and elbows, hate and violence.  
  
Reaching up, he brushed back Potter's dark fringe, fingertips skimming over the smooth skin where the scar wasn't. With the edge of a nail, he delicately scored a lightning bolt into the flesh, leaving a ghostly white imprint that quickly faded. He did it again, this time lifting his head to taste the mark with his tongue before it disappeared.  
  
Harry shuddered on top of him as Draco moved his mouth to an ear, teasing it with his breath. His lips nibbled down the slope of Harry's neck and then around, until he reached the notch of the collarbone. Sweat pooled there and Draco lapped it up.  
  
Above him, Harry dragged in ragged gulps of air as his fingers dug deeply into Draco's shoulders. With a muffled roar, Harry kissed him hard, forcing his head back to the earth with nips and bites. A tongue invaded his mouth, pushing past lips that were too slow to open.  
  
Devoured. Taken. Absorbed. He could feel Potter on top of him, his weight heavy, sinking into him, long legs trapping him, a hard length pressing against his hip through their clothes and robes. While he sent one hand threading through messy hair, the other skated down a well-muscled back, finally arriving at Harry's arse where it paused to touch and explore.  
  
Harry broke the kiss to gasp, quickly followed by a low moan. Part of Draco wanted to know what it would take to make him whimper and resolved to find out. Thrusting upwards, he heard a small groan and realised it was his own seconds before his mouth was captured again.  
  
He could hear their clothes crinkle and scratch as they rubbed against each other, his blood was pounding out a wild, wicked beat, wet noises were coming from frantic movements of lips, tongue, and teeth. Above everything he could hear...Weasley?  
  
"Didn't know there was that much tongue involved in learning Parseltongue," Ron said loudly.  
  
"Harry does seem to have picked it up quite well," Hermione added.  
  
Leaping off of him, Harry turned his back on the newcomers and began smoothing and straightening his robes. Draco, however, remained where he was, doing nothing to hide his state.  
  
He glared at Weasley and Granger. "You will both die. Slowly, painfully, and so extraordinarily messily that it will take weeks to scrape up all of your parts."  
  
The pair had the audacity to laugh at him.  
  
That was another problem with being a Gryffindor, Draco thought. None of his death threats were taken seriously.  
  
* * *  
  
A few minutes before ten o'clock at night, Draco put the last of the cleaning supplies away. Professor Snape had used his detention to eradicate the mess that the third year students had made earlier in the day. Making a mental note to hex the next third year he came across, Draco straightened his shoulders and headed for Snape.  
  
This wasn't something he wanted to do. It wasn't something he'd ever thought of doing, even when the Potions Master had been someone he actually liked. But tomorrow night was the night of the full moon, the night the Progiscor would rise, and this needed to be accomplished.  
  
Snape, busy marking essays at his desk, glanced up as he approached. "You still have two minutes left, Mister Malfoy. I do hope you don't expect to leave early."  
  
Giving him a slow smile, Draco reached out, letting his hand cover Snape's where it lay on the desk.  
  
"How about if I leave later." Wetting his lips, he added, "Much later."  
  
With a sneer, Snape rose from his chair and drew himself up to his full height. "What is this? Some sort of joke, Mister Malfoy?"  
  
Raising his wand, Draco murmured, "Impedo Memoria".  
  
Snape's eyes narrowed. "Now why would you want our memories obscured so that they can never be placed in a pensieve?"  
  
Draco stepped closer and did his best to flutter his eyelashes. When he realised that it was making it hard for him to see, he gave it up. "I want this memory to be ours and ours alone." He took another step until his robes brushed against Snape's and whispered huskily, "Our first night together."  
  
"Have you gone mad?" Snape backed away, only to find Draco following him.  
  
"I've seen how you watch me. Always there, hovering over me, undressing me with your eyes."  
  
"I have never—"  
  
"And I know that you've seen me doing the same to you. Imagining your...your large, throbbing...manhood."  
  
Eyebrows arched. "Manhood?" An idea seemed to dawn on Snape. "The head injury, of course. It must have been much more serious than we thought."  
  
Draco shook his head. "It's not my head. I...I just can't keep denying our destiny to be together."  
  
"You should go to the Infirmary. In fact, I insist that you see Madam Pomfrey at once."  
  
"It's not my bloody head," Draco snarled, then tried to get back on track. "If I'm not well, it's because I am consumed by my lust for you."  
  
"Perhaps St. Mungo's might be a better choice."  
  
"Bloody hell! I'm trying to seduce you, you stupid twit." Draco could hear heavy footsteps in the hall outside the door. He grabbed Snape's robes and pulled him close so that their faces were next to each other. "Now come here, you greasy lump of wizard, you."  
  
With a sudden lunge forward, Draco kissed Snape, still holding his robes tightly so he couldn't escape. It was only as it occurred to Draco that Snape was fairly talented at this activity that Crabbe and Goyle walked in.  
  
Releasing Snape, Draco turned to them. "Leave," he ordered.  
  
The pair, whose eyes were bugging out, took even longer than normal to process the request. Looking at one another, they made a decision and backed out of the room, shutting the door behind them. Their squeals of amazement could be heard as they went back down the hall.  
  
"Ah...now I understand," Snape said as he brushed the wrinkles from his robes that Draco's grip had created and headed for his desk. "This is to be blackmail, then."  
  
"Blackmail is such a dirty word." Draco smiled. "That must be why I like it so much."  
  
Snape sat down in his chair and idly tapped his fingers on his desk. "State your terms."  
  
This wasn't going quite right, Draco thought. Snape should be upset or angry, not acting rather bored. When Draco didn't answer straight away, Snape sighed in exasperation.  
  
"Come now, Mister Malfoy. There must be terms, some goal you were hoping to achieve with this little drama you staged. Out with it or be on your way."  
  
"Aren't you at all worried?" Draco cocked his head and studied the Professor. "The Hogwarts Governors would fire you for having a relationship with a student."  
  
"Thus barring me from a job I detest."  
  
"It would ruin your reputation."  
  
"One advantage of having a reputation such as mine is that it can never be ruined." Snape let his eyes wander down Draco's body. "I dare say, the idea that I could lure you to my bed would only serve to enhance it."  
  
"Then why do you want to bother to hear my terms?" Draco asked angrily.  
  
"Call it curiosity. Mister Malfoy, I have been Head of Slytherin for years. Do you have any concept at all of the number of times my students have attempted to blackmail me? This, however, is the first time a Gryffindor has tried. A quite remarkable effort, too, though certainly not flawless."  
  
With a huff, Draco plopped down on a chair and crossed his arms. "I thought it was flawless."  
  
Snape sniffed. "Obviously it was not. So what's it to be? Do you need a special potion brewed?" Snape looked pointedly at Draco's crotch. "Perhaps to enhance certain characteristics."  
  
"I don't need a potion to...to do anything. I'm perfectly satisfied with my characteristics as they are."  
  
"Really?" drawled Snape.  
  
"Yes!" Taking a deep breath, Draco tried to calm down. "If you must know, my friends and I have determined that tomorrow night there will be an attack on Hogwarts and the students will be sent to the dungeons for protection. We aren't going."  
  
"So you were planning to blackmail me to make sure that your absence was not noted."  
  
"Exactly." Draco leaned forward and met Snape's eyes. "It's very important that we be allowed to do this."  
  
Snape considered for a moment, then nodded. "I'll allow it. On one condition. Tell me of your relationship with Mister Potter."  
  
"You really are a perv, aren't you?'  
  
Scowling, Snape waved the remark away. "Mister Potter has the potential to be a powerful wizard. His background, being raised by Muggles, a deceased mother, a father who has practically abandoned him, while not unique, is quite worrisome. I must know. Are you serious about him?"  
  
Solemnly, Draco nodded. "Since the moment I laid eyes on him, I have always taken Harry Potter extremely seriously."  
  
"You care for him?"  
  
Slowly, steadily, Draco answered. "Yes, I care for him."  
  
Releasing a held breath, Snape leaned back in his chair. "You and your friends will not go missing in tomorrow night's count."  
  
"Good." Draco rose to leave.  
  
"Mister Malfoy?" Snape said, and Draco turned to face him. "Other than the fact that I cannot be blackmailed, your plan did have one serious flaw."  
  
"Which was?"  
  
A smirk spread over Snape's face. "By now, Misters Crabbe and Goyle have informed Mister Potter that you were kissing me. Have a pleasant evening."  
  
Draco made sure that he slammed the door on his way out.  
  
* * *  
  
After leaving the Potions classroom, Draco headed for the Slytherin dormitory where he found the password changed. Not letting that stop him, he pounded on the door, yelling threats to anyone within listening distance about what he would do if they didn't open up immediately.  
  
He'd been going down the list of hexes alphabetically and had arrived at Grotesque Putrefaction when the door swung open and Bulstrode faced him.  
  
"Potter's not here," she said smugly.  
  
"I just want to talk with him." Draco began to push past her, but she moved to block his way.  
  
"He's not here," she repeated. "He fought with Crabbe and Goyle and stormed out. It was quite entertaining. He called them liars, like the two of them would have the brains to come up with a lie."  
  
Clenching his fists, Draco glared at her. "Where'd he go?"  
  
Bulstrode tossed her hair back. "I haven't the slightest idea, nor do I care."  
  
Draco was turning away when she spoke again. "The new password is 'Malfoy sucks'."  
  
He looked at the triumphant grin on her face.  
  
"Harry changed it," Bulstrode said then shut the door.  
  
* * *  
  
At first, Draco didn't see Harry slumped in the corner of the darkened Charms classroom and thought he'd read the map wrong. He'd searched for close to an hour after leaving Slytherin before remembering the magical map he'd shoved into his trouser pocket when they'd spied on the staff. It had never been turned off, so after retrieving it from his room, it had taken him only a short while to locate Harry.  
  
When Harry lifted his head, Draco was taken aback by the fury barely constrained there.  
  
"I want my map back."  
  
Draco stepped closer. "Are you all right?"  
  
"I'm fine." Harry got to his feet and stuck out a hand expectantly. "My map?"  
  
Draco held it out and Harry took it, careful to grasp it by an end so that their fingers didn't brush. Efficiently rolling it up, he placed it inside his robes. "You shouldn't have used it to find me. Not right, using my own map against me."  
  
"I was worried about you."  
  
Harry let out a short, bitter bark of laughter. "Worried about me? I doubt you even spared me a thought."  
  
Moving closer, Draco shook his head. "That's not true. I think about you all the time."  
  
"Did you think about me when you were kissing Snape?" Harry snarled.  
  
Hands shoved Draco back hard. Then a second time. On the third time, his back hit the wall of the room.  
  
"You did kiss him didn't you?" Harry pushed his face close to Draco's. "That wasn't a lie, was it?"  
  
"Yes. I kissed him," Draco confessed quietly.  
  
A harsh groan of pain was torn from Harry, but was masked almost immediately by a cry of anger.  
  
"What's next? Are you going to feed me a story and watch me swallow it like an idiot? Go ahead, Draco. Explain it all away."  
  
Draco studied Harry's face. There was fury there and hurt, and a hint of desperate hope that none of this was real. He could make it better, Draco knew. He could explain it to Harry and make him understand.  
  
He opened his mouth to start when he realised something deep inside. He didn't want to have to explain.  
  
"No," Draco said, loudly and clearly.  
  
At first, Harry didn't understand. "What?"  
  
Draco pushed Harry away from him. "I said 'No', Potter. I'm not going to explain."  
  
"You're not going to make it better?"  
  
"Better? I don't make things better. How about it if I make it worse? Snape was one hell of a kisser. You should try him out some time."  
  
Harry reeled back. "Don't you care about me? About what I think?'  
  
"Of course I care," Draco spat. A familiar surge of rage swept over him and he made an effort to resist the urge to knock Potter on his arse. "I care more than you can imagine. But I'm not going to explain. I shouldn't have to. You should trust me."  
  
"Trust you?"  
  
"Yes. Trust me." Still simmering, Draco headed for the door.  
  
"What if I can't?" he heard Harry say behind him.  
  
"Then it's your loss."  
  
Draco slammed the door as he left. It was definitely a door slamming night.  
  
* * *  
  
As Draco marched into the Gryffindor common room a few minutes later, the thunderous look on his face kept all of the brave Gryffindors away. Unfortunately, that still left the stupid ones to bother him.  
  
A fifth-year asked where he'd been. Draco hit him with a jelly legs hex. A fourth-year asked what was wrong and was soon spitting up slugs. Another student, who hadn't said a word but had been in the general vicinity, found himself with a nasty case of warts.  
  
Hermione decided to step in before the things got too bad. She took one look at Draco's face and pulled him into her arms for a hug.  
  
"What can I do to help?" she whispered against his chest. Draco shook his head and returned her embrace.  
  
"Was it Snape? Should I get Harry for you?" Hermione offered, leaning back so that she could look at him while stroking his cheek with a hand.  
  
"Harry and I..." Draco's was unable to say more. Emotions clogged his throat, making it difficult to breathe. Hermione waited until Draco managed to choke out, "He doesn't trust me."  
  
Hermione looked around the room at the hexed students. "Imagine that." Sighing, she pulled Draco toward the boys' dormitory. "You'll feel better after a good night's sleep."  
  
"I'll feel better after I let loose a few thousand curses. Or kick the stuffing out of someone."  
  
Patting his back comfortingly, she nodded. "Well, Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Neville are already in bed. Why don't you wake them up and see if they can help you with that?"  
  
She watched him go up the stairs with renewed vigour. A few minutes later, as Hermione cured the warts from the unlucky student, she could hear thumps, crashes, and a large variety of swear words coming from overhead.  
  
Hermione smiled. Recently, Draco had made life in Gryffindor very interesting.  
  
* * *  
  
TBC  
  
Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story. I truly appreciate the feedback. 


	5. Chapter 5

A Slytherin in Gryffindor Clothing  
  
Chapter 5  
  
The day the Progiscor would rise dawned bright and sunny. Not a cloud was in the sky and the birds were chirping merrily.  
  
"Damn!" Draco swore as the spell he'd aimed at the birds to make all their feathers fall off missed. He leaned farther out of the window and adjusted the angle.  
  
"What are you doing?" Ron asked from behind him while munching on an apple.  
  
"Their twittering is annoying. I mean to put an end to it."  
  
"They're just happy, I guess."  
  
"Exactly. This must be stopped."  
  
Ron yanked Draco back inside the dormitory, causing the spell to misfire, hit the roof of the astronomy tower and shatter a few shingles. The broken shingles slid down to crash to the ground less than a yard from where Longbottom stood. Leaning out the window in time to catch Longbottom now staring with fright at the sky, Draco smiled. At least it hadn't been a total loss.  
  
"Just 'cause Harry dumped you, that's no reason to be hexing poor innocent creatures. Did you know it took Hermione over an hour to move Seamus' nose back to where it was supposed to be?"  
  
"Potter didn't dump me."  
  
Ron took a final bite, then tossed the apple core into a trash bin six feet away and grinned. "I should so have been a Chaser instead of a Keeper."  
  
"I have never been dumped. I am genetically incapable of being dumped."  
  
"Do you think if I used a time turner, I could go back and be a Chaser?"  
  
"It's only a setback. A slight one at that."  
  
"That's what I believe. Could try something new. Chasing and Keeping are entirely different things."  
  
"Yes, that's a good point, Weasley" Draco eyed him speculatively. "Never thought of you as being much of thinker."  
  
"I think of a lot of things. Sometimes."  
  
"Well, I've done the chasing part. The keeping part just needs some work." Draco glanced at the clock. "The others will be here for our meeting soon. I should probably give my hair another hundred brushstrokes. Want to look my best when Potter gets here. Make him realise what he's missing."  
  
As Draco left, Ron had a confused look on his face. "Chasing? Keeping? I thought he always played Seeker."  
  
* * *  
  
When Crabbe, Goyle, and Potter walked into the Gryffindor seventh year boys' dormitory, Draco greeted them warmly, acting the part of the perfect host. He showed them where to sit and offered them something to drink, all without kicking Potter as hard as he could. Sometimes his self-control amazed even him. He managed not to snog Harry, either. Obviously, his self-control was bordering on legendary.  
  
It was a close call about the snogging, though, when Harry ignored the chairs to take a seat on Draco's bed instead.  
  
Doing his best to not think about Harry on his bed, Draco opened his trunk and pulled out a sack.  
  
"Earlier this morning, the house-elf Drippy—"  
  
"Dobby," Harry corrected automatically.  
  
"...brought me the items I requested. " Draco extracted five muggle cameras from the bag and handed one to each of his co-conspirators then placed the sack, still partially full, on the floor. As Crabbe, Goyle, and Weasley examined the cameras, he explained. "Remember, you are never to look at the basilisk's stare directly. That'll kill you. You can, however, survive if you look through one of these. You'll be petrified, but that can be cured."  
  
"It's highly unlikely that will come to pass," added Hermione. "We should really only see the back of the creature."  
  
"Quite right." Draco pulled a crude map of Hogwarts he'd drawn that morning. At the sight of it, Harry looked a bit uncomfortable, but said nothing. Pinning the map to the wall, Draco pointed to a spot on the second floor. "This is the girls' bathroom where the opening to the Chamber of Secrets is. Ron, you're responsible for making sure walls are transfigured that block all but the correct corridor leading from this bathroom. Goyle, you'll station yourself on the first floor and do the same thing. Crabbe, on the ground floor, you'll wall up everything but the way leading to the door to outside. We're herding him, gentlemen."  
  
The boys nodded solemnly.  
  
"Do it just the way we practised and it'll be fine," Hermione assured them.  
  
"Afterwards, you are to ensure that the wards on the castle are still intact, and the door to outside is again barred, then meet Hermione in the Astronomy tower. In the meantime, Harry is to fly over the site where the final battle was fought and wait for the Progiscor to show. Once it does, using the Flying-Replying devices, he'll inform Hermione and me that it's headed toward Hogwarts then fly back to join Hermione in the tower. At that point, I'll lure out the basilisk."  
  
Draco turned to Harry. "Remember, you're my back up. If things go wrong in the Chamber of Secrets, you're to get the basilisk out of there." Draco smiled sardonically. "The basilisk shouldn't be too dangerous by then, having just eaten."  
  
Harry tensed, but nodded his understanding.  
  
"They're planning to round everyone up at dinner and send them off to the dungeons. How do we get out of that?" Ron asked.  
  
"We don't go to dinner."  
  
A few whimpers were heard from Goyle and Crabbe at that statement.  
  
Ron scratched his head, thinking. "But won't we be missed?"  
  
"That's already been handled, Weasley," Draco stated, refusing to look at Harry as he said it. "Sunset is at eight fifty-one. I expect all of you to be at the Astronomy Tower ten minutes beforehand."  
  
More nodded heads. Draco looked around at the group, letting his eyes settle on Harry for a moment, before moving on.  
  
"You might want to spend the time until then wisely."  
  
At Draco's words, Ron moved from where he'd been standing by the window toward Hermione, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her close. Crabbe, Goyle, and Harry stood and headed for the door.  
  
Draco watched the trio exit in silence before turning to face Granger and Weasley.  
  
"I'm going to go to Hagrid's now."  
  
Ron began to pull away from Hermione. "Would you like some help silencing the roosters so their crowing doesn't kill the basilisk too early?"  
  
"I think I can manage a simple silencing spell." Draco looked at Ron's face and gave him a conciliatory smile. "But thanks for the offer."  
  
Alone, Draco walked down the stairs, through the common room, and out of the Gryffindor tower. He'd just stepped outside the castle walls when a shadow fell on him. Squinting a bit in the bright light, he saw that it was Potter.  
  
After a moment's hesitation, he walked past him towards Hagrid's hut. Harry stood there for a few seconds, before hurrying to his side and matching his pace.  
  
"I want to talk to you, Malfoy."  
  
"Unless you've decided to trust me, don't expect me to listen." There, that certainly established that he wasn't desperate to have Harry back. He could play hard to get.  
  
When Harry began to slow, as if he weren't going to pursue the matter, Draco decided that there was such a thing as playing too hard to get. "You're perfectly welcome to try to convince me, however."  
  
Once again, Harry moved to keep up with him. For several minutes they walked in silence until Draco couldn't stand it anymore.  
  
"My word, Potter, I'd forgotten what a scintillating conversationalist you are."  
  
"Hey. I'm trying to think of how to start."  
  
"The usual way is to take a breath, open one's mouth, and emit sounds."  
  
Potter bumped his arm into Draco hard. Draco bumped him back.  
  
"Git," Harry murmured.  
  
"Prat," Draco insulted him back.  
  
A few more moments of silence followed before Harry cleared his throat. "It goes against precedent. A Potter trusting a Malfoy."  
  
Draco turned to face him, puzzled. "Precedent? Explain."  
  
"You know, my father, your father."  
  
"No, I don't know."  
  
They'd arrived at Hagrid's hut, and Draco rapped hard on the door. When there was no response, he breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't have to lie about why he wanted to see the chickens. Not that he objected to lying. He just objected to what Hagrid might do if he thought Draco had designs on his flock. He knocked once more, just to be sure, and then headed for the fenced area where the poultry was located, Harry close at his heels.  
  
"Why are you doing this to me?" Potter asked angrily. "Is this revenge for me not trusting you? You're rubbing this in my face?"  
  
Draco spun to face him. "If I wanted revenge, you'd be bleeding right now. So let me repeat. I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
Harry glared at him mutinously. Turning his back on him, Draco pulled out his wand and waved it over the flock.  
  
"Excerno masculus," he commanded.  
  
The chickens began to separate until there were two groups, hens and roosters.  
  
Again, Draco waved his wand. "Silencio." He uttered another spell and flicked his wand. The roosters stilled immediately. Harry quirked an eyebrow up in questioningly.  
  
"Wouldn't want to have to scurry around trying to find one to make it crow to kill the basilisk when we might be in a hurry," he explained. "Now," he said, pointing to Harry, "talk."  
  
Harry shuffled his feet in the dirt. "My family was in hiding from Voldemort. When told that your father, with Crabbe and Goyle, was switching sides, my father didn't believe it. My mother did. She ended up dying. He ended up being labelled a coward."  
  
Staring unseeingly at the nearby Forbidden Forest, Harry continued. "A few years later, he paid some Muggle relatives of my mother's to take care of me and took off. He visits me. Once in a while."  
  
"Your father wasn't a coward," Draco said firmly.  
  
"Right." Harry scoffed. "It's what everyone says. I've heard it whispered behind my back too many times to mention. They wonder if I'm going to turn into a coward, too. I'm going to show the world that I'm better than he was. Show them all that I'm not a coward. Show them that-- "  
  
It dawned on Draco that ambition was why Harry had been sorted into Slytherin – a driving need to prove to everyone that he was a person of consequence. He also realised that by calling Potter a coward in their fake fight days earlier, he'd inadvertently stumbled on an insult that cut deeply.  
  
It really was too bad that one couldn't make a career out of getting under Potter's skin. He clearly had a true talent for it.  
  
In any case, Potter's little rant wasn't solving anything and Draco decided it was time to take control of the situation.  
  
"Could you shut up and listen to me? Your father wasn't a coward, he was smart."  
  
Harry stopped talking and stared at Draco in shock.  
  
"Yes, smart," Draco continued. "Do you really suppose my father had any interest in saving Muggles? Please. Oh, I have no doubt that my father thought Voldemort was a growing crazier, but that wasn't important, either. What was important, was what was always important to him: power. "  
  
Draco gave a bitter laugh. "He almost pulled it off, too. Hero of the Wizarding World, and all that rot. Too bad he fouled it up by dying. If he'd lived, he might've been Minister for life."  
  
"How can you know that? Your father died when you were a baby."  
  
"Trust me, Potter, it's true."  
  
"There's that word again. Trust." Harry sighed. "You know, telling me that my father was right not to trust a Malfoy is not really a convincing argument for me to trust you."  
  
"Maybe not. But I'm not my father and you're not yours. Listen to your instincts, Potter, and make up your own mind."  
  
Spinning on his heel, Draco turned away from Harry and started towards the castle alone. After a few steps, he changed his mind and returned. Still angry that Harry didn't trust him, he kicked the other boy hard in the shin.  
  
Legendary self-control was all well and good, but it was not nearly as satisfying as hearing Harry yelp.  
  
Again, he headed towards Hogwarts. On his way back, he passed a group of house-elves. One began to wave to him, but he ignored it.  
  
* * *  
  
The sun was just beginning to set when they met in the Astronomy Tower in case there were any last minute questions.  
  
Everyone had been looking at one another silently for a moment when Harry spoke up.  
  
"I just wanted all of you to know that no matter how this turns out, I'm proud of being a part of this group." He clapped Goyle and Crabbe on the back, then shook hands with Ron and Hermione. When he reached Draco, he was met with a sneer.  
  
"Cease the sentimentality, Potter."  
  
"I was just thinking if—"  
  
"Enough, already."  
  
Nodding, Harry stepped back. Goyle and Crabbe shook hands with Ron and Hermione also. Crabbe gave Ron a quick glance, then leaned over and kissed Hermione briefly on the cheek, before heading down the stairs with Goyle.  
  
Ron and Hermione, were gathering each other close, when Draco poked Potter in the side.  
  
"Come on. I'll fly with you down to the gates. Give the lovebirds some privacy."  
  
A few minutes later, they landed on the grass outside the gates of Hogwarts.  
  
"Now remember, Potter," Draco admonished, "You're only supposed to let us know when the Progiscor is headed this way so I'll know when to open the Chamber. There's no need for you to get close to it."  
  
Harry nodded his understanding.  
  
"And if I don't...don't get the basilisk out of the Chamber of Secrets, then it'll be up to you."  
  
"I know," Harry said, then added, "Draco, you never told me quite what the Parseltongue words we were practising meant."  
  
"That's easy, Potter. The second phrase I taught you means "Open up". You'll need it to get into the Chamber."  
  
"And the first phrase?"  
  
"Remember, I told you that I practised with garden snakes?" When Harry nodded, Draco continued. "Well, I had to get them to come out in the first place. The phrase means "Come and get a tasty treat."  
  
Harry's eyes widened.  
  
"You idiot!" he shouted. "You utter moron!" Harry grabbed Draco by the robes and hauled him close. "You meant it when you talked of luring the basilisk out. You just never said that you were the bait."  
  
"Well, truthfully, I was hoping the ham might do the trick, but if it doesn't work, then I suppose—"  
  
Draco's voice was cut off by Harry's mouth pressed to his. He'd only just started adjusted to the feel of it, when Harry pulled back, green eyes fierce.  
  
"Don't die, Malfoy," he snarled. "Don't you dare die."  
  
With a groan, Harry moved his mouth to Draco's neck. A moment later, Draco felt the sharp sting of Harry's teeth on his flesh, marking him. Harry raised his head.  
  
"You're mine, Draco," he vowed. "You don't die."  
  
With a swish of his robes, Harry turned, mounted his broom, and was in the sky before Draco could catch his breath.  
  
With an unsteady finger, Draco traced the wound Harry had left on his neck. He'd often wondered what might have happened if Harry hadn't rejected him when they were eleven. Now he had some small idea and the entire notion was a bit unsettling.  
  
Overwhelmed. He would have been completely overwhelmed. By a Gryffindor. Draco wasn't sure if that would've been a good or bad thing.  
  
* * *  
  
With his broom in one hand and the sack of supplies in the other, Draco entered through the door he would soon be leading the basilisk out of. Crabbe was in a corridor, off to the side.  
  
"What's wrong?" Draco asked, seeing Crabbe's upset face. It wouldn't do for anyone to start having a case of nerves at this point.  
  
"We missed supper, but you can still smell it," Crabbe said mournfully. "There was roast chicken for dinner. My favourite."  
  
"Vince, tomorrow I'll take you into Hogsmeade and buy you two roast chickens. Agreed?"  
  
Nodding his head, Crabbe stepped back and walls rose up around Draco, blocking all the corridors except for the one leading out of the castle and up the stairs.  
  
Going up the steps, Draco noted that the charms Hermione had placed on the staircases to keep them from moving seemed to be working.  
  
On the next floor, he encountered Goyle, who looked glum.  
  
"Ready, Greg?"  
  
"They had chicken for dinner tonight. Wouldn't have minded that for my last meal."  
  
"I'm taking Vince out tomorrow night for a meal to make up for it. Suppose if you came along, it wouldn't bankrupt me."  
  
"Thanks, Malfoy."  
  
Goyle stepped back and more walls rose up.  
  
Silently, Draco headed up the last flight of stairs to find Ron waiting for him.  
  
"I have something to ask you," the redhead began.  
  
"I know, I know. I'll buy you a roast chicken, too."  
  
"Not what I was going to ask, but thanks. What I was wondering was exactly how you got us out of tonight's round-up. I haven't seen another soul anywhere. No staff members tracking us down, neither."  
  
"You really want to know, Weasley?"  
  
"Wouldn't have asked if I didn't."  
  
Draco took a deep breath. "I kissed Snape."  
  
Ron's mouth dropped opened. His eyes bulged.  
  
"Now put up your walls," Draco ordered. "Harry should be contacting me soon."  
  
Getting a grip on himself, Ron nodded, then stepped back. Right before the walls appeared Draco heard Ron whisper to himself, "Blimey, no wonder the thought of a basilisk doesn't scare him."  
  
Entering the bathroom, he quickly found the basin that had the snake ornament, then, pulling the Flying-Replying from his sack, he placed the round piece in his ear.  
  
"Hermione, I'm ready" he said and was rewarded with the sound of her voice.  
  
"Good." Hermione answered. "Harry just checked in. He's circling over the spot where the final battle was, but there's no sign yet of anything strange."  
  
"Potter?" Draco said tentatively and let out a held breath when he heard a voice answer him.  
  
"Malfoy?"  
  
"Harry...stay safe."  
  
"You, too."  
  
Frustrated that they were so far apart, Draco felt a strong desire to rip the device out of his ear and throw it against the wall. Knowing that would serve no purpose, he kicked the wall of the bathroom instead.  
  
"You're not supposed to be here," he heard a whiny female voice state. "This is the girls' bathroom. You're not a girl."  
  
Folding his arms, Draco faced the spectre of Moaning Myrtle. "What was your first clue?"  
  
"Draco?" he heard Hermione ask through his earpiece. "Whom are you talking to?"  
  
"No one important. Just Moaning Myrtle"  
  
"No one important?" Myrtle screeched. "You're a wicked boy. I'd report you if anyone would listen, but does anyone pay attention to me? No."  
  
"Maybe you should report me," Draco said after a minute. "And I know just the chap you should talk to. There's a portrait of a gent in the Library, blond hair the same color as mine, but longer, blue eyes like mine, rather handsome. He's the one you want to complain to."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Definitely. But don't be put off if he says anything insulting. He's terribly shy. Especially when confronted with a lovely young female, such as yourself. I assure you, keep talking to him and after a few years, you'll have a steadfast friend forever."  
  
A grin spread over Moaning Myrtle's features and she quickly disappeared through a wall.  
  
"Draco, isn't that portrait in the Library of your father?" Harry asked.  
  
"Why, yes, Harry, I believe it is."  
  
"You're evil."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Cheered, Draco was humming a little tune when an unearthly shriek poured through his earpiece. The high-pitched sound made Draco immediately bend over and cup his head in throbbing pain. He could hear Potter's harsh gasps in reaction to the noise and Hermione's whimpers.  
  
"It...it's the Progiscor." Harry's voice was ragged.  
  
"I hadn't guessed." Draco made the effort to drawl. "Now get back here."  
  
"It's pretty big," Harry described. "Twice as tall as Hagrid but rather round. Grey with lots of arms that look like elephant trunks, one eye, one mouth. No legs though. It sort of flows and...Oh, shit!"  
  
"Potter!" The lack of answer caused fear to burn through Draco. "Potter!"  
  
Another shriek sounded, louder this time, shooting white pain through Draco's brain. Instead of ripping out the earpiece, he put his hand over it, as if to keep it in place.  
  
"Potter are you there? Damn it, Harry! Answer me!"  
  
The time that passed could have been seconds or minutes. It didn't matter. It felt like an eternity to Draco.  
  
"I'm...h-here."  
  
"What's wrong?" Draco demanded.  
  
"Nothing. Nothing to w-worry about. It was just moving towards Hogsmeade. But not anymore. I'm...I'm heading back to Hogwarts now."  
  
At the sound of Harry's shaky voice, Draco's knees felt weak and wobbly in relief.  
  
"Good. I'll see you when this is all over, Potter."  
  
Straightening his shoulders and taking in several cleansing breaths, Draco turned toward the basin that would lead to the Chamber of Secrets.  
  
"Open up," he hissed in Parseltongue.  
  
The sinks moved and an opening appeared in front of Draco. Reaching into his sack of supplies, he pulled out the large ham and rope. Quickly he tied the end of the rope to the bone emerging from the ham and lowered it into the opening, uncoiling it slowly. More and more quantities of rope kept disappearing into the darkness and Draco had to cast a spell to make it longer.  
  
"Come and get a tasty treat," he hissed, yanking the rope to make it jerk.  
  
Nothing happened. He hissed the entreaty again, louder, but still there was no pull on the rope.  
  
Holding his broom tightly in one hand, he knew there was no helping it. He was going to have to go in. He was going to have to enter the Chamber of Secrets.  
  
The slide down the passageway was completely unexpected and he decided that if he ever got back to his own world, he was going to thump Ginny Weasley on the head. If she felt compelled to tell tales of Potter's heroics, the least she could do is be completely accurate in the details.  
  
He recoiled the rope as best as he could, whipped out his wand, uttered a quick lumos, then pocketed the wand again. With his Nimbus in one hand and the ham in the other, he started forward.  
  
When his shoe crunched against something, he looked down in disgust at the skull of a small animal and said "Nasty thing." When he found the shed skin, his pale skin turned paler. It was gigantic. Potter had fought this thing in his second year? His eyes shifted from the enormous size of the skin of the basilisk to the small ham in his hand.  
  
Tossing the ham onto the ground, Draco huffed in irritation. "I knew Longbottom would've been a better lump of meat. But, no, I try being nice. Try not to have someone eaten. And what do all those laudable values and traits do for me? Screw me over, that's what. It truly sucks to be a Gryffindor."  
  
Marching onward, he travelled through twists and turns of the tunnel until he came upon a set of doors with snakes entwined on them. The snakes had emerald eyes that glittered in his wand's light and Draco could tell that the stones were of high quality and quite valuable. He hissed for doors to open and they swung back.  
  
With a flick of his wand, Draco cast a spell for the room to light up. Placing his wand back inside his pocket, he looked around. Pillars of snakes were carved on each side of the walkway. The ceiling overhead seemed quite high, meaning he was probably much deeper beneath Hogwarts than he'd first supposed.  
  
At the end of the pathway, he saw a large statue that seemed to be of Salazar Slytherin.  
  
"And people call me vain. I haven't created a monument to myself. At least not in the last few years."  
  
It was as he began to walk towards the statute to examine it more carefully when he heard a whisper of scales. Pulling his wand from his pocket, he whispered, "Accio rope." The ham on the end of the rope wouldn't be much more than a mouthful for a serpent of the size that shed skin indicated the basilisk to be, but it was better than nothing.  
  
The rope appeared and Draco gulped. The ham was gone. Another slick slide and rustle confirmed Draco's fear.  
  
The basilisk was behind him.  
  
Trying to avoid any sudden movements, Draco mounted his broom. He could hear the noise better now. It was definitely coming from behind him, and he fought the urge to look.  
  
The light he'd cast when he'd first enter the Chamber of Secrets still flared and Draco could see his own shadow flickering on the wall of the cavern. Another, larger shadow, appeared on the wall and steadily became more distinct as it got closer. When the head raised up, poised to strike, Draco kicked off on his broom.  
  
He felt his robe snag on something and for a few terrible seconds, he hung motionless in the air, before it ripped and he flew free. Racing forward, he aimed for the right side of the statue. He could hear hissing from the rear as the basilisk gave chase.  
  
Swooping around the back of the statue, he closed his eyes for several precious seconds as he headed back towards the entrance to the Chamber. Opening them, he found himself on a collision course with one of the pillars and dodged to the side, narrowly missing it, before continuing out through the entrance of the Chamber of Secrets.  
  
Hissing his enticement for the basilisk to come and get him, he soared through the tunnels, past the skin, past the bones, then upwards. The twisting turns and spirals slowed him down and he could swear that he felt moist hot breath on his back.  
  
As he flew into the bathroom he shouted triumphantly "Harry, Hermione, it's working! The basilisk is following me."  
  
"Harry's still out there!" The near panic in Hermione's voice came over loud and clear through Draco's earpiece.  
  
"What?"  
  
"It was going into Hogsmeade. I had to stop it," he heard Harry say.  
  
"Potter, I told you—"  
  
"There's something wrong with Harry's broom," Hermione said, interrupting Draco's rant.  
  
"It...a tentacle hit the bristles. Acidic, I think. It ate away at them," Harry explained. "I can't go very fast and I can't go too high.  
  
Draco was already reaching the first floor. In less than a minute, he'd be out the door with the basilisk right behind him, heading straight towards Harry and the Progiscor.  
  
"Harry, as soon as you see me, I want you to shut your eyes."  
  
"But how will I fly if I can't see?"  
  
"I'll guide you."  
  
Draco was flying down towards the ground floor now. The heavy weight of the basilisk thumped and thudded on the staircase as it pursued him.  
  
"But—"  
  
"Damn it, Potter, trust me!"  
  
The door to outside was ahead of him.  
  
"I-I trust you, Draco."  
  
With a burst of speed, Draco soared out into the night air. The full moon lit the landscape and immediately he scanned his surroundings for signs of Harry.  
  
The scene before Draco made his heart race. There wasn't much left of Potter's broom, only a few bristles left in the tail. The Progiscor was so close to him that Draco knew it was probably only Harry's rare skill at flying that had enabled him to arrive back at Hogwarts and kept him alive.  
  
"Potter, I want you to think of a clock. Right now, you're facing twelve. I want you to head for ten o'clock."  
  
Hermione's worried voice came through the earpiece. "Draco, that might not be a good idea, he'll be heading for—"  
  
"Do it, Potter. Hermione, how far behind me is the basilisk?"  
  
"Fifteen yards. Maybe less."  
  
Damn, Draco thought. It was much too close. He leaned over his broom and sped up. "Potter, when I tell you, I want you to get as low as possible to the ground, skim the grass if you can."  
  
Draco watched as Harry got nearer and nearer. "Now, go low. Lower. Move it lower, Potter." Harry was only a foot from the ground as he flew. "Good. That's low enough."  
  
Harry skimmed under the branches of the Whomping Willow before it could react. The Progiscor was not as lucky. As the tree attacked the creature, Harry began to pull comfortably ahead.  
  
"Now I want you to head toward two o'clock and start rising. A few feet more. That's good. Hold that course. Hermione, basilisk distance."  
  
"Thirty yards."  
  
It wasn't much, but it would have to do.  
  
"Potter listen carefully. When I tell you. I want you to stop, then swing down so that you're holding onto your the broomstick with just your hands."  
  
"What?" screamed Harry.  
  
"Get ready."  
  
From the rapidly closing distance, Draco could see Harry's eyes squeezed shut. He hoped he timed this right. The Progiscor had made it past the Whomping Willow and was heading Harry's way.  
  
"Now, Potter!"  
  
With no hesitation that Draco could see, Harry stopped his broom and swung over the side, letting his body dangle in the air. Slowing his speed down to almost nothing, Draco aimed for Harry. Letting go of his broom with both hands, he grabbed the boy, and pulled him onto his own broomstick in front of him.  
  
"Ten yards!" Hermione was shouting. "Eight."  
  
With the Progiscor in front and the basilisk behind. Draco pointed his broom toward the sky. The extra weight caused it to react sluggishly.  
  
"Six. Move it! He's almost on you."  
  
Higher they rose, until they were out of striking range of the basilisk, Draco figured, but the Progiscor was looming ahead. The grey tentacle-like limbs were stretching up and the monster was opening its maw of a mouth.  
  
The scream that it emitted made Draco's teeth rattle. He could feel Harry shudder in front of him and remembered that this was the third time Potter had heard it at close range. The sound seemed inescapable, sending chills up his spin.  
  
Three of the tentacles unfurled towards them. He and Harry weren't quite high enough. He'd done it wrong, somehow, and not only was he going to die, he'd managed to kill Harry as well.  
  
The tentacles reached out, then stopped, frozen. A loud crack sounded. Then another.  
  
Taking advantage of the stillness of the creature, he changed his angle and soared over the Progiscor. He could hear Hermione shouting.  
  
"You did it. It's dead. It has to be. The basilisk killed it."  
  
Draco slumped against Harry's back in relief. "Thank Merlin. Now all we have to do is swing by Hagrid's and get one his roosters to crow while the basilisk feasts." Turning to the left, he could see the hut, with the fenced area for the chickens ahead. He couldn't wait for this to all be over.  
  
"Something's wrong," Hermione's voice cut through his thoughts.  
  
"What is it, Granger? The Progiscor's dead, right?"  
  
"Yes, but it's the basilisk. It's not eating it. It stopped and inspected the corpse for a moment, but now it's following you again."  
  
"It should be okay," Draco reassured her. "We're almost at Hagrid's. We'll just unsilence these roosters and..."  
  
"What's going on?" Hermione asked when Draco's voice trailed off.  
  
"The...the roosters. They're gone."  
  
In front of them was the spot where he'd silenced the roosters, then spelled them to stay still. There was nothing there now but a few feathers left on the ground. Then it hit Draco.  
  
The house elves headed for Hagrid's this morning. Chicken for dinner.  
  
The roosters that were supposed to crow and kill the basilisk, saving the day, were now being digesting by the student population of Hogwarts.  
  
"Do something," he heard Harry say fervently.  
  
"Can you transfigure something into a rooster?" Draco asked in desperation.  
  
"No. Can't you?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Draco, the basilisk is beginning to close the gap," Hermione shouted.  
  
There had to be a way. There had to be.  
  
With sudden insight, Draco headed to the field near Hagrid's hut and the Forbidden Forest. When he reached the centre of the field, he stopped, hovering a few feet above the ground.  
  
"What are you doing Draco?" he heard Hermione shout. "Get out of there!"  
  
Draco stayed where he was.  
  
"It's almost there. Oh, dear god. It's right behind you."  
  
Draco kept them in their place, hovering over the ground. He could feel the basilisk's breath on his neck. He heard a long, loud hiss, and shivered.  
  
Hermione was crying. "Please Draco. I don't know what you're doing, but please get out of there."  
  
He felt Harry lean back against him. "Draco, you know I trust you, right?" he whispered. "I was wondering if you wouldn't mind me trusting you at about thirty feet in the air?"  
  
"Wait. Please wait."  
  
Harry paused, then nodded. Draco felt something brush the back of his robes. It had to be the basilisk's tongue. Smelling him. Tasting him.  
  
Another hiss came, this time right next to his ear. Draco wondered if he'd miscalculated again.  
  
"Something's happening." Hermione's voice was filled with surprise and wonder. "The basilisk seems to be weaving."  
  
Please, please, please, Draco pleaded silently.  
  
"It is weaving!" Hermione voice was astounded. "It's...the basilisk is lying down. It just keeled over."  
  
Letting out a deeply held breath, Draco slumped in relief against Harry.  
  
"What happened? Is it dead?" Harry asked.  
  
"No, asleep."  
  
"Asleep? How did you manage that?"  
  
Without saying a word, Draco lifted up Harry's hand and ran a finger over a still healing scar. A scar Harry had received from a bite.  
  
"The shandle-pops," Harry said.  
  
"The shandle-pops," repeated Hermione, understanding at last. "They excrete a substance under the full moon that in large doses is an anesthesia."  
  
"Ten points for Gryffindor," Draco muttered. "Come on, Potter. We really should kill it before it wakes."  
  
* * *  
  
They'd flung their robes over the basilisk's face before getting to work, just in case it happened to open its eyes.  
  
Draco had transfigured two boulders into axes. He handed one to Harry, who gave it a funny look.  
  
"What were you expecting, Potter? The Sword of Gryffindor?"  
  
Harry had smiled in response, and then got to work decapitating the basilisk. Bloodied, they later slumped next to the headless body.  
  
"You did it, Malfoy. Despite all the things that happened, your plan worked."  
  
"Amazing, isn't it?" Draco shrugged. "Well, I suppose there's a first time for everything."  
  
Harry sat up straighter and turned to stare at his friend. "What do you mean by that?"  
  
"It's just that I don't think any of my plans have ever worked before. In fact," Draco confessed, "most tend to be unqualified disasters."  
  
"You've never had a plan work before?"  
  
"No. I don't think I have."  
  
"Yet, you came up with this. Roped all of us into it with you. Got us to all risk our lives. Kissed Snape for some reason I still haven't yet fathomed, and don't even think that I've forgotten about that, all for a plan that you didn't think would work?"  
  
Draco considered the question for a minute, then nodded.  
  
"Yes, I did."  
  
The scream Harry gave was loud and long and ear splitting.  
  
Potter could've given lessons to the Progiscor, Draco thought.  
  
Being tackled to the ground by him, however, was so very much better than being eaten, Draco decided. Though with the way Potter was nibbling at him, there might not be much of a difference. Being snogged until you practically lost consciousness due to a lack of oxygen was quite delightful, too.  
  
Absolutely none of which even compared to the feeling of Harry rubbing against him until his whole body felt as if it would go up in flames. Draco closed his eyes and revelled in the sensation. When he opened his eyes a moment later, they widened.  
  
"Harry," he asked slowly to the boy currently panting against his neck as he thrust against him. "Do you suppose any of the shandle-pops substance might have got on us?"  
  
"Hmmm. Maybe. Oh god, that feels good."  
  
"Do you think that the substance can cause hallucinations?"  
  
"Don't think so," was Harry's gasped reply.  
  
"Then Dumbledore and McGonagall really are standing over us with a centaur, a goblin, and an elf?"  
  
Harry let out a yelp and rolled off of him, and Draco sighed in disappointment.  
  
"Good evening Mister Potter, Mister Malfoy," greeted Dumbledore. Smiling, his eyes flickered to the body of the basilisk, then back to them. "It seems you've had quite an exciting night."  
  
"Actually, we were just getting to the good part," Draco snapped as he stood up, ignoring Harry's squeak coming from behind him. He grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him to his feet. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we need to get back to our rooms. I do believe we may have missed curfew."  
  
Turning his back on Dumbledore, McGonagall, and the others, who seemed to find it all quite fascinating, Malfoy dragged Potter back to Hogwarts at a furious pace. At the door to the castle, they ran into Ron, Hermione, Vince, and Greg on their way out.  
  
"Draco, Harry, we were so worried," Hermione opened her arms to embrace them, but Draco ignored her to push onward, towards the dormitories.  
  
"Yes, we're alive. Yes, everything is fine," Draco said as he passed them. Their friends looked to Harry for explanation, who only shrugged at them as he was pulled, stumbling, after Draco.  
  
Ron hurried to catch up with Draco. "You okay? Didn't go barmy again, did you?"  
  
"I am not barmy. I have never been barmy. But I will rapidly become barmy if Harry and I continue to be interrupted."  
  
Hermione let out a little giggle, which she was too slow to stifle. Draco, still not slowing his pace, swivelled his head to give her a murderous look, followed by a gleam of speculation.  
  
"Granger, as Head Girl you have your own room, right?"  
  
Hermione nodded.  
  
"Good. Harry and I are using it. Please see that we're not interrupted."  
  
Within minutes, the door to Hermione's room closed with a resounding thud.  
  
Vince, Greg, Ron, and Hermione stood outside for a moment until the sounds coming from the room caused them all to feel vaguely uncomfortable and slightly perverted.  
  
Hermione tossed her hair back and looked down her nose at the three males who towered over her. "Tomorrow is our last full day to study before the NEWTs. I expect for all of us," she glared a bit at that part and the three shuffled their feet, "to do well. Meet me at the Library immediately after breakfast if you wish to study together."  
  
Turning on her heel, Hermione departed. Ron looked at Crabbe and Goyle.  
  
"Don't know about the pair of you, but I'm famished. Either of you fancy a trip to the kitchens?"  
  
With enthusiastic nods of affirmation, they headed to get something to eat, discussing everything that had happened that night, except for Draco and Harry's current activities.  
  
Draco was busy discovering that having a bit of Gryffindor in a Slytherin could be an extremely pleasant experience. The reverse also proved to be equally enjoyable.  
  
TBC Two more chapters to go.  
  
Thank you to all the wonderful people who have taken the time to review this story. I'm very grateful for your feedback. 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6  
  
Draco lavished the nob of skin with his tongue for the hundredth time as the morning light slowly filtered in through the curtains Hermione had placed on her window.  
  
"You don't have to do that," Harry said tentatively.  
  
Glancing up briefly at Harry's face, Draco shook his head. "That's all right. I want to do it."  
  
A few more minutes passed with Draco licking and nibbling before Harry sighed. "There are other spots that might appreciate your attention more." He stretched and kicked the covers off, just in case Draco didn't get the point of his remark and needed visuals.  
  
"I'm fine where I am."  
  
Exasperated and more than a bit confused Harry shifted, moving the object of Draco's fascination out of his reach.  
  
"Draco – it's just an elbow."  
  
"Ah, but that's where you're wrong, Potter. It's not just an elbow."  
  
"Looks like an elbow to me."  
  
Clasping Harry's arm, Draco pulled it back into reach of his mouth. "It's your elbow. Part of you. A part of you that I intend to conquer." His tongue flicked out to lap at the skin. "I want to taste it, feel it, absorb it until it's part of me."  
  
Draco blew on the skin his mouth had just wetted, then glanced at Harry's face.  
  
"It will be mine so completely, that you will never forget it. When you bang your elbow, when you wash it in the shower, when you lean on it at your desk, there will be the constant memory that it belongs to me.  
  
And I won't stop at your elbow. I plan to sweep down your arm, and advance on the bones of your wrist. Each finger, your palm, the pad of your thumb, will be new territory to subdue to my will."  
  
Draco's pale fingers skimmed over Harry, tracing the path created by his words. "Then I'll move up your arm, attacking your shoulder, your collarbone, your throat, letting nothing stop me. Next will be your face, where I'll make brief forays at your ears and eyes, while laying siege to your mouth.  
  
Every part of you, your feet, your knees, your inner thighs, your chest, your back will all fall to my onslaught. By the time I reach my final objectives, you'll want to be vanquished. You'll beg to be possessed. You'll surrender completely to me."  
  
Getting to his knees, Draco straddled Harry's body, leaning over him so that their faces were close, his eyes locked with Harry's.  
  
"There'll be others who'll want you. Want you for their own. But I'll have already been there. Every whisper of breath across your body will remind you of me. Every touch will be an echo of my skin on yours. Every quiver will be but aftershocks to the shudders of you under me. You're mine, Potter, and always will be."  
  
Harry blinked. "Wow, Malfoy. That's," Harry swallowed hard, "that's really bizarre."  
  
Draco poked Harry in the ribs. "Shut up."  
  
Wiggling in reaction, Harry was unable to keep the happiness from flooding through him and spilling out in a burst of laughter. "I mean it. You're such a weirdo."  
  
Draco decided later that he probably shouldn't have explained himself to Harry, for Harry seemed determined to make him thoroughly his as well. And Harry liked to use his teeth.  
  
* * *  
  
Hermione rapped softly on her own door. When there was no response, she knocked harder. She was searching for something to use to bang on it when Draco opened the door a few inches and peered out.  
  
"Granger? Is there something you wanted?"  
  
"It's five o'clock in the afternoon, Draco. I managed to borrow clothing from Lavender, who was also kind enough to provide me with a place to sleep. But tomorrow are the NEWTs and I've exhausted your supply of notes and need my own. Not to mention that Crabbe and Goyle have been nosing around saying something about a promised chicken dinner. And how did you get all those notes from Ravenclaw, anyway?"  
  
Draco seemed to ponder the situation, then stepped back, allowing Hermione to enter.  
  
Clothes were scattered about the room. The blond was clothed only in a black pair of boxers, but what shocked Hermione were the bruises and bites that marred the pale skin. He saw her noticing them, and grinned proudly.  
  
"Harry's rather possessive."  
  
Her eyes flew to the bed, where Harry lay with his face turned away from her, the sheet wrapped around his waist, exposing the lean muscles of his chest. One long leg was flung out and an edge of the sheet crept up the thigh.  
  
"You wanted your notes, Granger?" Draco said, amusement evident in his voice.  
  
"Right." Sneaking one last glance at Harry, she went to her desk, removed the spell she'd set to protect all of her papers, and gathered her notes in her arms."  
  
She allowed Draco to steer her back to the door.  
  
"And what should I tell Crabbe and Goyle?" Hermione asked.  
  
Turning his head towards the bed, Draco said loudly, "Potter, you want some roast chicken?"  
  
"Oh, please don't let that be another sexual euphemism," came the muffled reply.  
  
Letting out a laugh, Draco returned his gaze to Hermione, who was attempting to keep her face expressionless. "Tell Crabbe and Goyle that I'll meet them to go into Hogsmeade at the Great Hall in an hour. Tell Ron he's invited, as are you."  
  
"I'm going to be busy studying. It's already been delayed outrageously."  
  
"Yes, it was completely ill-mannered for the Progiscor to rise right before the NEWTs."  
  
Draco started to shut the door, then stopped. "Could you possibly ask the house elf Boppy—"  
  
"Dobby," Harry said from inside the room.  
  
"—to send up a tray of food and drink for Potter? I believe he's weak from hunger."  
  
"Hunger. Right," huffed Harry from inside, sounding slightly more awake.  
  
Hermione smiled. "I will." Reaching out, she touched one of the marks on Draco's body, letting her fingertips skim along his torso until they reached a second one. "I really should've taken full advantage of you when I was your girlfriend."  
  
Speaking a little louder, she said, "Sure you don't want to share him with me, Harry?" and was answered with a growl.  
  
"Better tell Crabbe and Goyle I'll meet them in two hours," Draco said with a grin before shutting the door.  
  
With a bounce in her step, Hermione headed to the common room to study, doing her best to ignore the sounds coming from behind her.  
  
* * *  
  
Draco had been horribly, terribly wrong.  
  
He'd told Goyle that buying roast chicken dinners wouldn't bankrupt him. Graveyards didn't possess as many bones as were currently mounded on the table. Between Ron, Vince, and Greg, it was possible that whole flocks had been sacrificed to appease their hunger.  
  
He managed to settle the bill with the owner and joined the others outside.  
  
"I wonder if Honeydukes is still open," said Ron as they headed at a walk back to Hogwarts. "Could use a sweet or two to finish the meal off."  
  
"I thought that's what the two helpings of crème brulee were for," said Draco dryly.  
  
"Not the same thing." Ron turned to Goyle. "You know what I mean, don't you, Greg?"  
  
"Definitely, Ron."  
  
Ron smiled triumphantly at Draco. In retaliation, Draco turned to Crabbe. "Vince, have you considered who you're taking to the Leaving Ball? It's in a few days."  
  
"I d-don't know," replied Vince, sending a quick glance at Ron. "There's a girl I like, but she's got a boyfriend."  
  
"And has this boyfriend of hers asked her yet? If he hasn't, then I propose that she's up for grabs."  
  
"Really?" said Vince hopefully.  
  
"Absolutely."  
  
"Who are you taking, Malfoy?" Ron asked, a bit peeved that his friend was encouraging a rival for Hermione.  
  
"Harry, naturally."  
  
"Have you asked him?"  
  
"No, but..."  
  
"He's a hero, now. He might have other options."  
  
Draco stared at Ron for a moment and a chill went through him. Harry was a hero now, just like the Harry in his world. And the Boy Who Lived, Hero of the Wizarding World, had never wanted to have anything to do with Draco Malfoy.  
  
* * *  
  
Harry was pulling on his pants when Draco stepped through the door.  
  
"I think Hermione wants her room back," Harry said as way of explanation, all the while keeping his back turned to Draco. "I can't believe you let me lounge around most of the day. The NEWTs are tomorrow."  
  
"Lounge around?" Draco lifted an eyebrow. "Is that what they're calling it these days?"  
  
Flushing, Harry grabbed a sock off of the floor, then began rummaging through the bedcovers. "Listen, I've got to go. Unlike you, I have to do well on the NEWTs, not having a huge trust fund to fall back on." Eyeing his goal, Harry snatched a sock from among the blankets.  
  
Folding his arms, Draco leaned back against the wall and watched Harry don his socks.  
  
"Fine. Go if you must," he finally said. "I just wanted to ask you something important."  
  
"Important? Where are my shoes?"  
  
Pointing to a corner, Draco took a deep breath as Harry retrieved the shoes, then sat on the edge of the bed while he put them on.  
  
"I was wondering if you would like to attend the Leaving Ball?"  
  
"Doesn't pretty much everyone go?" Harry asked without glancing up.  
  
"I'm asking you to be my date."  
  
Harry's hands stilled on the laces of his shoes for a moment before he resumed tying them. "Sure. Sounds great."  
  
Standing, Harry headed for the door. "I really have to be going."  
  
After Harry rushed out, Draco stood alone in the room, feeling bereft and confused, wondering what he'd done wrong.  
  
* * *  
  
The NEWTs had been gruelling, but Draco knew he'd done well and was quite pleased. He was not pleased, however, by the fact that since asking Potter to the Leaving Ball, he'd managed to spend less than a handful of minutes alone with him.  
  
Finally, he'd decided to discover what was causing Potter to avoid him lately. Which was why Harry was currently sprawled on the floor of the closet outside of the Great Hall after Draco had tackled him and dragged him inside. Draco had always firmly believed in taking the direct approach.  
  
"What gives, Potter? You've been avoiding me."  
  
"I haven't, either." Harry rose to his feet and started brushing the dust from the floor off of his robes. "You know, you don't need to kidnap someone if you want to talk to them. Oh, right, with your personality you do."  
  
"I do if they've been dodging me, which you have. Wherever I am, you make it a point of not being there." Even in the dim light, Draco could tell that Harry was looking everywhere but at him.  
  
"That's ridiculous."  
  
"Fine. Prove it. Give me your map. The one that shows where everyone is all the time."  
  
"No."  
  
"See! You do want to avoid me."  
  
"Just because...." Harry trailed off, then leaned against the wall of the closet in silence.  
  
Draco moved closer, his voice low. "Why, Potter? Is it because you're no longer interested, having had your wicked way with me?"  
  
"No." Harry denied, "Of course not." Then more hotly, "And it was you having your wicked way with me. I didn't even know you could...and when you...and that thing you did with your tongue was just...." Harry shook his head. "That's not it at all."  
  
Draco leaned in closer and ran a finger down Harry's cheek. "You liked what I did with my tongue?"  
  
Eyes brimming with memory, breath hitching, Harry nodded.  
  
Placing a leg between Harry's, Draco murmured. "And would you like for me to do it again?"  
  
Unable to stop himself, Harry thrust his groin against Draco's thigh, and nodded a second time.  
  
Draco ran his hands leisurely down Harry's chest, past his waist, until he reached where their bodies met and began to stroke Harry.  
  
"Then you know what you need to do, Potter?"  
  
Arching his hips against Draco's hand, Harry was incapable of answering. His eyes closed as Draco stroked him a few more times then squeezed, before taking a step back.  
  
"You need to stop avoiding me."  
  
Harry's eyes flashed open. "You...you...you tease."  
  
"Tell me, Harry. Why are you doing it?"  
  
"Because of this! Exactly because of this," Harry snapped. He ran his hand through the mess of hair on his head in exasperation.  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
"Us. This. It's not going to last, is it? After the Leaving Ball, we're out of Hogwarts. Probably never to see each other again except for once in a while when we'll run into each other, nod politely, then be on our way. And it'll tear me apart. I'll still want you and you're going to step away, just like you did right now. Completely unaffected."  
  
Draco grabbed Harry's hand and yanked it to his crotch where his erection was still hard and yearning. "Does this feel unaffected to you?" He ground against Harry's palm for a moment before releasing it. "I'm not leaving you, Harry. I'm not letting you leave me, either."  
  
"You're not?" Harry's face was wary, but with a small bit of hope shining through.  
  
"No," Draco repeated. "I'm not."  
  
"It just feels sometimes as if everyone leaves me." Harry looked down at the floor for a moment, before raising his eyes to Draco's. "I guess that means that I've been acting pretty stupid lately, then."  
  
"Which is understandable, seeing how that's your natural state." Draco smiled seductively. "You were also wrong about one other thing."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Malfoys threaten. We bribe. We entice. We insult. We promise retribution and we vow revenge."  
  
Moving forward, Draco dropped to his knees at Harry's feet.  
  
"Malfoys never tease."  
  
When Draco licked his lips in anticipation, Harry moaned.  
  
* * *  
  
He didn't have time for this, Draco thought as he sat in Dumbledore's office the next day. Tonight was the Leaving Ball. He had to bathe, deep condition his hair, and somehow chose an appropriate robe from the vast array of nauseatingly red and gold formal attire the other Draco had owned.  
  
He studied Dumbledore across the desk and was surprised at how old he looked. Draco had seen him at the head table for so many years and known for even longer that he was one of the greatest living Wizards, so it was a bit shocking to notice how elderly and almost feeble he seemed.  
  
His age must have been causing some feeble-mindedness, as well, for they'd spent the entire time during their meeting discussing the various sweets at Honeydukes and how the house elves might improve the dessert menu. Draco's suggestion that if they ever fouled up the baklava as spectacularly as they had on the previous night, then they should be spread with the mixture and staked out in the sun was only met with a distracted nod.  
  
Despite the thick walls, Draco could hear the sounds of the storm growing outside. As Dumbledore had prattled on about various candies, he'd amused himself with imagining all the damage the wind and rain was creating as they sat and talked. Finally, Draco decided that enough time had been wasted.  
  
"Headmaster Dumbledore, I appreciate you taking your valuable time to discuss matters of no importance with me, but I really must be on my way." Draco moved to stand up.  
  
"You are attending the Leaving Ball tonight?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
Draco stopped where he was and nodded.  
  
Dumbledore studied him for a moment. "With Harry Potter, no doubt?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Would you say that you and Mister Potter have become friends?"  
  
"You saw us next to the basilisk. I'm sure you can draw your own conclusions," Draco replied stiffly.  
  
"Yes, the basilisk. Quite an interesting business. I'm afraid your and Mister Potter's exploits in destroying the Progiscor are all over the newspapers. You are both being touted as heroes in the Wizarding community."  
  
"Well, it has been against the law for Wizards to kill reporters since 1797, so I don't suppose it can be helped. Stupid law."  
  
"Owls have flown in almost continuously since, showering both you and Mister Potter with praise and gratitude."  
  
"Quite a nuisance, aren't they?"  
  
"I understand that Mister Potter has even received news that his father was planning on visiting soon."  
  
Draco frowned. He remembered Potter recognising the handwriting on the letter he'd received that morning and his eyes going wide behind his glasses while tearing open the envelope with shaky fingers. Afterwards, he'd tried to feign that it wasn't important, but he'd been filled with energy. The subsequent sex had been quite memorable, but it concerned Draco that Potter could be so easily influenced by his father's approval.  
  
Dismissing the thought, Draco shrugged. "I'm sure the story will soon get out that you had the situation well in hand and the furore will die down."  
  
"Whether it does or doesn't is of no matter. Harry Potter is now quite a celebrity. I believe he is even being considered for Auror training."  
  
Draco's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Which is what you wanted to happen," he said slowly, the truth becoming apparent.  
  
"When I performed the Spell of Necessity with Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall, I had no such clear objective in mind."  
  
"The Spell of Necessity? That's impossible. It's only a myth."  
  
"All myths have their roots in the truth."  
  
Pushing his chair back with such force that it clattered to the floor, Draco stood, trembling with rage. "You did this, didn't you? It's your fault I'm here."  
  
"The trouble with the Spell of Necessity is that one never knows how it will be accomplished," Dumbledore replied calmly. "We had no idea that it had even worked, nor that you would be the instrument that would solve our dilemma."  
  
"But it wasn't the Progiscor that you were worried about, was it?"  
  
Draco's mind flashed back to Snape's interest in his relationship. He'd said something about how Harry's mother was dead, how his father abandoned him, and Muggles had raised him, just like someone else.  
  
"It was Harry you and Professor Snape were concerned about." The conversation he and Harry had eavesdropped on in the staff room suddenly began to make sense. "Years ago, Snape said, you didn't do anything and it was a catastrophe."  
  
Draco took a deep breath, his mind coming to a conclusion that stunned him.  
  
"You were afraid. Afraid that Harry would become another Voldemort," Draco accused.  
  
Dumbledore simply nodded his head in reply.  
  
"That's crazy. Harry would never do that."  
  
"Harry has ambition."  
  
"Harry has a disgusting inner core of goodness. I should know because I'm completely lacking one." Draco leaned over Dumbledore's desk and did nothing to disguise the anger he was feeling, his voice becoming a low growl. "Which you'll discover if you ever, ever consider meddling in Potter's life again."  
  
"Please, Mister Malfoy, calm down. I didn't ask you here for a confrontation."  
  
"Then why did you?"  
  
"I merely wished to say good-bye to you before you left."  
  
"Well when I walk out the door of Hogwarts for the final time, I can't say I'm going miss you, your cronies, or this pile of rocks." Draco spun away and headed for the exit.  
  
"The spell is ending and all must go back to as it should be."  
  
Draco's face was ashen when he turned to stare at Dumbledore. "It's ending? So I'll be leaving? Leaving this world?" he stammered.  
  
Dumbledore's slow nod shook Draco's soul.  
  
"Damn you," Draco hissed, full of pain. "Damn you to hell."  
  
* * *  
  
"Harry!"  
  
Draco was panting, out of breath. A trickle of cold sweat was rolling down his cheek. After leaving Dumbledore's office, he'd run straight for Harry, scared that he might disappear before seeing him again. A Slytherin student had just been stepping out of the dormitory when he arrived, so he raced in and quickly made his way to Harry's room where he was greeted with a grin.  
  
"I thought you're weren't supposed to be here for another two hours."  
  
"I need to talk to you, now."  
  
"Sure." Harry looked at Zabini and Nott, who were staring at them curiously. "Why don't we go outside?"  
  
As they left Slytherin, Harry let out a snort of laughter. "I guess you know the new password, right?"  
  
"Password?" Draco was having a difficult time focusing, his mind still trying to get a grip on the situation and what he could possibly tell Harry.  
  
"You don't know?" Harry's grin became even wider as they climbed the stairs leading out of the dungeons. "I changed it. Actually, I just added to it. The password is now Malfoy sucks...magnificently."  
  
At Draco's blank look, Harry shook his head, smiling ruefully. "I know, I know. It's crude, insulting, and an incredible understatement."  
  
Not even paying attention to where they were going, Draco found himself at the door they'd used to lead the basilisk outside and opened it. It was still raining hard. There was an occasional flash of lightning with the accompanying rumble of thunder, but the doorway had overhanging eaves, which would protect them from the downpour.  
  
Harry's brows knit together in concern at Draco's unusual behaviour. "What's the matter?"  
  
"I have to tell you something."  
  
"Something bad?"  
  
Draco nodded. "Very bad."  
  
"What did you do?" Harry asked.  
  
"It's not my fault! If it were up to me, I'd stay here forever."  
  
"You're leaving?" All traces of a smile on Harry's face melted away in an instant. Distraught, Harry began to back away, not noticing that he'd moved out from under the shelter and the rain was now soaking his hair and robes.  
  
"Yes. No." Oh, god, Draco thought. It was going to be even worse for Harry. When the other Draco came back, Harry would be ignored. Harry would think that Draco was doing it on purpose, cutting him out of his life."  
  
"Listen to me, Harry. Stick with Hermione and Ron. They'll be good friends to you. I guarantee it."  
  
"But you won't be around, will you?" Harry stepped further into the rain.  
  
"I will." Draco narrowed the distance between them so that the rain was now trickling down his hair, his face, seeping into his robes. He grabbed Harry by the arms, yanking him close. "I just won't be with you. Not anymore. I can't be. I'll be some prat who doesn't even know that I love you."  
  
Draco kissed Harry hard, trying to convey his feelings one last time with his lips when words were useless.  
  
Harry pushed him away and used his sleeve to wipe the taste of him from his mouth.  
  
"You want to go, Draco, then go. Get out of here! I'm not stopping you."  
  
"You don't understand."  
  
"I understand just fine."  
  
Water had blurred Harry's glasses and his eyes were hidden from view, but Draco suspected from the tremble in his voice that not all of the dampness on his cheeks was due to the rain.  
  
"Harry, please let me explain."  
  
"No! I trusted you. Believed in you. Even lov.... " Harry stumbled further back. "Now you..." Unseeingly, he turned away from Draco and headed into the storm.  
  
"Go to hell, Malfoy."  
  
He couldn't let it end like this. Not with Harry in pain while his own heart felt torn apart.  
  
Draco raced after Harry. The rain was coming down so hard and thick that he couldn't see Harry anywhere.  
  
"Harry!"  
  
He scanned his surroundings and thought he saw some movement to his left so he ran towards it. "Harry!"  
  
A bolt of lightning struck a tree not far from him, startling Draco. He reeled back, losing his footing to land in the mud on his back, his head hitting a rock hard. Blackness threatened to overwhelm him, engulf him. He couldn't let that happen. Blinking hard, he willed it away.  
  
Draco spread his arms wide to brace himself when he touched something next to him. Something that wasn't grass or mud. He turned over and saw what it was and the wail he let out split the sky.  
  
It was the body of his father.  
  
TBC  
  
Only one more chapter to go. Also – I noticed that fanfiction.net profiles no longer contain e-mail addresses. My e-mail is mahaliem@yahoo.com if you wish to ask a question. Or leave me your e-mail in your review and I'll try to get back to you. 


	7. Chapter 7

Title: A Slytherin in Gryffindor Clothing  
  
Author: mahaliem  
  
Chapter 7  
  
The rain was still falling hard as Draco ran his hands over his father's body, searching for indications of life, but finding none. Biting back sobs that threatened to rack through him, he pulled the body close, holding Lucius' head in his lap, seeing the telltale signs of the Avada Kedavra curse. With shaky fingers, he brushed back long blond strands from the noble face.  
  
"No Minister of Magic in this life for you, either, Father."  
  
He was back in his own world, and from all indications, his world had gone mad. There were shouts coming from somewhere to the left of him and he could see blurry figures trapped in the downpour along with flashes of magic. The war with Voldemort had finally arrived.  
  
Gently, he placed his father on the ground and rose to his feet.  
  
"But this time, I will avenge your death."  
  
He strode past clusters of duelling Wizards as he hunted for his target. The sight that greeted Draco when he found the object of his search filled him with a cold rage.  
  
Harry was clutching a sword to his chest as he writhed on the ground, doing his best to shake off the Cruciatus curse that Voldemort was using. Blood was running from Harry's scar, trickling into an eye, half-blinding him, and then moving on to run down his cheek into his robes.  
  
His glasses were gone; his robes were tattered and covered with mud.  
  
Carefully, Draco took aim.  
  
Hitting Voldemort in the back with "Stupefy".  
  
The Dark Lord stilled for a moment before spelling it off, and spun to face Draco. A look of astonishment crossed his face, before it returned to its normal hate-filled expression.  
  
"I thought you were as good as dead, young Malfoy, or I would have stayed to finish the job." He fired off a curse and Draco leapt to the side so that it narrowly missed him.  
  
"You killed my father." Draco threw a hex of his own, which Voldemort pushed aside easily.  
  
"The fool died trying to protect you." A sudden look of comprehension passed over Voldemort's face. "Don't tell me another parent's sacrifice saved their child?"  
  
"You really are a blockhead, aren't you?" Draco shot off another hex that was quickly knocked aside. "I'm not the Draco you fought earlier."  
  
He dodged Voldemort's next hurled spell and gave him his best sneer.  
  
"I'm his evil twin."  
  
With a look of fury, Voldemort let loose a volley of spells, which Draco was forced to roll on the ground to avoid. The edge of one hit his left forearm and pain shot up his shoulder. Ignoring the blood that began to seep into his robe from the now useless limb, Draco aimed his wand at Voldemort's robes and shouted "Incendio". The flames flickered and hissed in the rain before being quickly snuffed out by a counterspell.  
  
Another curse hit Draco, and this time he heard one of his ribs crack. A third curse sent him spinning in the air to land on his stomach in the mud.  
  
The Dark Lord stepped forward until he towered over him. "Look at you, young Malfoy. In the mud. Again. But this time your father cannot help you. Who's going to save you now?"  
  
Voldemort raised his wand and opened his mouth to destroy Draco, then stopped. His eye widened frantically as the tip of a sword emerged from his chest. He tried to magic it away, but his wand dropped from useless fingers as Harry pushed the sword further into his back and through his heart.  
  
A harsh gasp sounded as Voldemort took in one last rush of air. With desperation, Draco lifted his wand and spat out, "Silencio."  
  
With his last curse silenced, Voldemort died. The body crumpled to the ground.  
  
"One should never ask questions that one doesn't want to know the answers to," Draco commented before closing his eyes in pain and weariness.  
  
Draco heard, rather than saw, Harry plop down next to him. After a moment, he forced his eyes open and looked at his saviour.  
  
"In the back, Potter? How incredibly Slytherin of you."  
  
"Racing to the rescue, Malfoy? How Gryffindor of you."  
  
Draco snorted. "As much as I enjoy trading insults with you, I do believe there's still a war being waged." He struggled to push himself up on his knees.  
  
Harry glanced around. "Actually, it appears to be winding down."  
  
"Oh thank god," Draco sighed, allowing himself to drop back into the mud. Mud was good. Comfy. A bit cold, but he'd heard it did wonders for the skin.  
  
It was only when he heard Harry laugh next to him that he realised he'd been babbling aloud. He gave him his most baleful gaze, then gave it up as being too exhausting.  
  
"So, what do you suppose we should do with this git?" Harry said, pointing at Voldemort's body.  
  
"I'm voting for the traditional method. Chop off the head, burn the remains, then scatter the ashes over consecrated ground."  
  
"Right," Harry said bitterly. "It wouldn't do for him to pop up again."  
  
"And if he does, we'll nip it in the bud. Make him Longbottom's Potions partner. That would destroy him, once and for all.  
  
Another laugh, this one sounding just a hairsbreadth away from a sob escaped from Harry's lips. Draco pushed himself up to a sitting position and shifted closer to Harry, putting his right arm around shoulders that were now heaving in reaction and pulling the dark-haired head to his chest.  
  
"It's over, Potter." Comfortingly, he alternated between rubbing and patting Harry's back. "Let it out," he whispered in Harry's ear. "It's over now."  
  
Draco felt hands creep around his sides and cling to him. His hurt rib protested, but he refused to acknowledge the new pain. Together they rocked each other, mourning their losses. The noises around them become more and more sporadic and the rain lessened until it was only a drizzle.  
  
From afar, Draco heard Granger and Weasley's voices shouting "Harry!" Harry must have heard it too, for he lifted his head in response. Pushing away from Draco, he stood up. After a moment of struggling, Draco stood as well.  
  
"Just a minute, Potter," he said as Harry began to walk in the direction the voices were coming from. Finding a small patch of robe that could almost be termed clean, he used it wipe at Harry's blood and tear-soiled face. "You're a mess. Even more so than usual, and I never thought that was possible. Mustn't give your fan club a fright."  
  
"Draco," Harry began. "I want to thank you for....for..."  
  
"Harry!" Ron shouted, then spun Potter away from Draco, grabbing him up into a strong hug. "Thought you'd been done in for sure."  
  
Granger came running to them and flung herself against them. "I was so very worried."  
  
Draco stood, looking at the trio. His mind knew that these people were not his friends, but his heart leapt at the sight of all three of them. Alive.  
  
With a cry, he pulled Hermione into his arms and embraced her.  
  
"Draco?" she said, a bit unsure.  
  
"Stop that, Malfoy," Ron said huffily.  
  
"Right." Draco immediately released Hermione and spun to hug Ron.  
  
"Malfoy! Hey....Malfoy, you're bleeding."  
  
"How observant of you, Weasley. And people say you're just a pretty face. No, wait, they don't."  
  
"Um...Harry, is this the Malfoy that hates us or the Malfoy that says he's our friend?" Ron asked over Draco's shoulder.  
  
"I think it's the one that hates us."  
  
The sounds were fading away and everything was slowly going black, but Draco could still hear Ron's voice near his ear.  
  
"Good," Ron stated. "That other one was driving me bonkers."  
  
When Draco fainted, Ron managed to catch him in his arms.  
  
* * *  
  
Draco awoke to find Harry leaning over him, studying his torso, which still bore faded marks from their time spent alone together in Hermione's room.  
  
Reaching out, he grabbed Harry's collar and yanked him forward so that he fell on top of him, their faces almost touching.  
  
"Missed you," he whispered, then pulled Harry's mouth down to his.  
  
Harry seemed strangely unresponsive, his mouth remaining closed, so Draco captured his bottom lip with his teeth and bit. When Harry let out a gasp, he took advantage and thrust his tongue in, running it along teeth, exploring the roof, twisting and dueling with Harry's tongue until he was forced to pull back in order to breathe. He nuzzled into Harry's neck, panting. .  
  
"Love having my tongue inside you, Harry." He ran his hands down from Harry's neck to his arse. "Love being inside you." He moved a hand between them and began to stroke Harry through his clothing. "Love you inside me."  
  
With an exclamation of shock, Harry scrambled back, falling off the bed and landing on his rear in an effort to get away.  
  
"Holy shit, Malfoy!"  
  
Draco looked at the boy, who was wearing a stunned expression, and saw that this Harry had a scar on his forehead. He glanced around and realised he was lying on a bed in the infirmary, healing from injuries sustained in his duel with Voldemort. He'd been kissing the wrong Harry. "Damn."  
  
Potter continued staring at him from his place on the floor and Draco rolled his eyes.  
  
"Don't worry, your precious virtue is safe. Didn't realise it was you. I won't make that mistake again."  
  
Harry got to his feet, still careful to keep a large space between them. "You called me Harry when you were...you thought I was him, didn't you?"  
  
"Him?"  
  
"Just like there was another Draco here, you were somewhere else, weren't you?" Harry's voice got louder as he became more confident that he was right. "The place the other Draco talked about. A place with a different Ron and Hermione and...me."  
  
Draco shifted uncomfortably on the bed as Harry moved closer. "I said I wouldn't make that mistake again."  
  
"You and he, the other Harry, you were...were..."  
  
"We fucked," Draco snapped. "Do you understand, Potter? We fucked and that's all there was to it" The lie tasted bitter and stung Draco's tongue. "Now, go away and leave me in peace."  
  
"That's not all there was. It couldn't be. Not from the way you spoke, not from the way you just kissed me, the way you touched me."  
  
"Oh, for pity's sake, Potter, grow up. I felt you against me, too, and don't give me that line about your wand because for all the talk about the Great Harry Potter, your shaft is no eleven inches. I felt you against me, responding, and it wasn't about some deep abiding emotion, was it? Unless you have a confession of undying love to make."  
  
Harry scowled. "You're a fool, Malfoy," he said, before striding furiously away.  
  
Draco was forced to agree.  
  
* * *  
  
His time in the infirmary had caused him to miss his father's funeral. Dumbledore, as Headmaster, came by afterwards to inform him of the particulars of the service, which had been sparsely attended. Draco noticed how aged Dumbledore looked, as if his life had leaked out of him in drips and drabs. He wondered how many condolence calls he'd had to pay on his students and how many funerals he'd had to attend.  
  
Draco received a package from his mother, giving him detailed instructions on what papers to sign to ensure his inheritance, but giving nothing in the form of comfort. Unlike the Malfoys, with their last minute shift in loyalties, the fortunes of several families were now being held pending investigations. Draco supposed he should be thankful for those circumstances, but was unable dredge up any gratitude.  
  
When Madam Pomfrey deemed him fit, the first thing Draco did was visit the dungeons.  
  
Snape was examining his store of potions when Draco slid into the room. He turned, arching an eyebrow.  
  
"I would expect for you to be using your time studying for the NEWTs, not bothering your professors."  
  
"Why'd you do it?" Draco asked.  
  
"Pardon me?"  
  
"Oh, I haven't decided if I'm going to pardon anyone yet. Why did you, Dumbledore, and McGonagall do the Spell of Necessity?"  
  
Snape's usual expression of distaste dropped, as surprise claimed him. "How did you become aware of that?"  
  
"I don't think you're following this conversation, Professor," Draco sneered. "I'm asking the questions, you're answering. Now tell me why."  
  
Snape swallowed, then gave a short nod. "I suppose we owe you that much." Gathering his robes around him, in addition to his dignity, he moved to his chair and sat down. He indicated for Draco to sit down, as well, but Draco remained standing.  
  
"As you've no doubt discovered by now, I was a spy. Voldemort was growing more powerful. I'd learned that there was to be an attack on the Hogwarts, although I was unable to obtain an exact knowledge of when or how. It was deemed that I should be seen as taken by surprise, as well."  
  
"I thought it was always fairly common knowledge that one day it would come down to Dumbledore versus Voldemort."  
  
"Yes, but what wasn't known is that Voldemort's powers had continued to increase while Dumbledore...Dumbledore is quite old. Even with Harry's potential, we were unsure of the outcome."  
  
"So you did the Spell of Necessity," Draco said coldly.  
  
"Yes. When nothing seemed to happen, we concluded that it hadn't worked. We were much too busy preparing for the upcoming battle to pay attention to the change in the normal squabbling of Gryffindors and Slytherins."  
  
"What happened exactly?"  
  
Snape scowled. "I don't know exactly. I do know that your father escaped from Azkaban There are indications that his first action was to approach you, presumably to have you join him."  
  
"But it wasn't me he ended up talking to. It was a goody-goody Gryffindor who thought of his father as a hero. The situation must have been quite painful. For both of them."  
  
"Undoubtedly." Snape shrugged his shoulders. "The end result is what matters. Your father chose to protect you, weakening Voldemort in his defiance, and by his defection, turning the tide. Your subsequent return prevented Mister Potter's death, allowing him to strike the killing blow."  
  
"Do you have any idea of what you did to me? To Harry? Do you even care?"  
  
"We saved the world, that's what we did. Casualties were impossible to avoid, sacrifices needed to be made."  
  
Draco slammed the door on his way out. As a casualty of the war, he felt he had the right.  
  
* * *  
  
"Malfoy – wait up."  
  
Hearing Potter call him to as he left Snape's classroom, Draco purposely increased his pace in the opposite direction, in no mood to deal with anything or anyone at the moment.  
  
"Malfoy," Harry said impatiently, having run to catch up and now pulling him around by his arm to face him. "I want to talk with you."  
  
"Pity. I have no desire to talk with you." Draco moved to leave, but was hauled back by Potter.  
  
"I heard that you're helping the Crabbe and Goyle families. Paying for lawyers to contest the loss of their estates," Harry accused.  
  
"That's no business of yours."  
  
"I'm making it my business. Their fathers were Death Eaters."  
  
"Their fathers are dead. Vince and Greg are my friends and did nothing wrong."  
  
"They deserve to be punished."  
  
"My, my Potter, I'm impressed. Filling the void, already, are you?"  
  
Harry stepped back, unsure of the mocking tone of Draco's voice. "What do you mean?"  
  
"You've obviously decided that you should be the one who decides who deserves what. Which includes throwing widows and orphans out of their homes and off of their land. Ding, dong, the Dark Lord is dead." Draco swept into a low bow in front of Harry, then lifted his gaze to Harry's startled face. "Long live the new Dark Lord."  
  
"That's...that's..."  
  
"What, Potter? Not fair? Sorry, but I didn't know there was supposed to be any fairness in this discussion. Or any fairness in life, for that matter."  
  
Harry's face was pale as he stared at Draco.  
  
Draco sighed. "Speaking of fairness, I must go study for the NEWTs. Again. Remind me to find out what idiot decided to postpone them because of the war. I owe him a serious thumping."  
  
* * *  
  
Sitting in the Great Hall that evening, Draco started to count the empty spaces at the various tables, but soon lost track. Every table had lost someone, but most of the spots could be attributed to the student returning home after a death in the family. Across the Great Hall, he could see Potter sitting at the Gryffindor table. Their eyes met for a long moment, before Ron said something and Harry glanced away.  
  
This is what he'd wanted at one point, Draco thought. He was back at the Slytherin table where he belonged. Harry was again a stupidly brave Gryffindor, Ron was a prat, and Hermione was a know-it-all. Everything was as it should be.  
  
Except it wasn't.  
  
Looking down the table, the remaining Slytherins were quiet and subdued. In fact the mood of all of the students in the Great Hall was so somber that it bordered on depressed. Everyone was speaking in whispers, as if afraid to raise their voices.  
  
Noticing Zabini trying to appear as if he wasn't watching Bulstrode, while she also pretended not to watch him, Draco decided that their relationship had ceased to be amusing. He couldn't sit there and watch them shy away from making their feelings public anymore.  
  
"Blaise," he said loudly, "are you ever going to tell Millicent how you feel about her, or shall I?"  
  
Millicent and Blaise's heads swivelled in a flash to Malfoy.  
  
"Fine. I'll do it." Draco said, not giving Zabini a chance to answer. "Millicent, for the past two years, Blaise has had a crush on you. No, not a crush, that doesn't come close to explaining the extent to which he's acted like a moron around you. It must be love. Only that can justify his level of idiocy."  
  
Millicent's eyes went to Blaise, who was looking as if he'd just been petrified.  
  
"And Blaise, you must realise that Millicent returns your feelings or you would surely have been pounded into the consistency of pudding by now for all of your antics." As the pair sat there in shock, Draco began to lose patience. "Zabini stand up. Bulstrode, you stand, too."  
  
With wariness, they followed his direction.  
  
Draco nodded with satisfaction. "Now both of you go to the end of the table. Good. Zabini, kiss her and I'd better see some tongue or I'll hex you both."  
  
Blaise, with some trepidation, took Millicent in his arms and gave her a light kiss. For a moment, they stared at one another, and then she kissed him back. The kisses that followed became more passionate.  
  
The Slytherin table began to applaud and whistle as the couple continued to kiss. By the way the two of them were acting, Draco figured he was going to be a godfather to a little Draco or Dracana within nine months.  
  
He glanced over at the Gryffindor table and saw that Weasley and Granger were watching Zabini and Bulstrode with expressions of shock and approval. Potter, however, was staring at him. Draco smiled at Harry.  
  
Things were going to change there as well.  
  
* * *  
  
Humming, Draco walked to the Quidditch pitch. He'd finished the NEWTs in record time. They'd been quite easy, especially since they were exact copies of the ones he'd taken in the other world. He was positive he'd scored higher than anyone else. Ever.  
  
Draco was almost there when he heard running behind him and his name called, so he turned around.  
  
"Potter, this is getting to be a nasty habit of yours, tagging along after me."  
  
"I wanted to talk with you again."  
  
"Fine." Draco indicated that they should move to the stands where they sat, not next to each other, but not too far apart, either.  
  
"The other day, after we argued--" Harry began.  
  
"Which I won."  
  
"I mentioned it to Ron and Hermione. Ron called you names--"  
  
"The idiot."  
  
"And Hermione was quick to say it was all nonsense. But then they looked at me funny."  
  
"They've both always been funny looking."  
  
Harry swatted Draco half-heartedly on the shoulder. "I'm serious. It was like they were thinking that it might be possible. That I might actually...I don't know...become dangerous."  
  
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Potter. Is that what's got you so wound up?" Draco rolled his eyes and stood. "I only said it to mess with your mind. You're not going to turn into a Dark Lord. You're not Dark Lord material."  
  
As Draco left the stands and headed for the broomshed, Harry followed him.  
  
"You don't know that. You don't know anything about me."  
  
Draco whirled to face him. "You're wrong, Potter. I know everything about you. I know that you like strawberry jam on your toast and hate grape. I know that you nibble on the ends of your quills, then are embarrassed by the tooth marks. I know that once you've made up your mind about something, that's it, whether it's to accomplish some impossible task, or who your friends are."  
  
Moving closer, Draco lowered his voice to a husky whisper. "I know more about you than you can ever imagine."  
  
Harry blinked, confused for a moment, then pushed Draco back a few inches while shaking his head.  
  
"You know him, the other Harry. Not me."  
  
"Perhaps. But it does make me curious to find out how much is the same."  
  
Draco licked his lips, and was pleased when Harry seemed mesmerized by the action. "I wonder if you'll moan if I bite your shoulder and if you'll whimper when I lick your chest. I wonder if you'll have that same musky smell. I wonder about how you'll feel shuddering under me. I wonder about the taste of your skin, your sweat, your mouth, your cock, your arse. And I wonder about the look you'll have in your eyes when you're lost to lust and arousal and belong entirely to me. If that look will be the same look you're wearing now."  
  
Swallowing hard, Harry stepped further away from Draco. After he got his breath back, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Are you messing with my mind again?"  
  
"Possibly." Draco turned away and opened the broomshed, wasting no time as he grabbed both his broom and Harry's. He noticed that Harry had stayed firmly outside. Exiting, he tossed Harry's broom to him.  
  
"Fancy a ride?" he said with a leer.  
  
"You were kidding, weren't you?" At Draco's smirk, Harry glared at him. "I don't know how you managed to get along with that other Harry of yours without him wanting to kill you."  
  
"Actually, we didn't always get along. We had our share of fights."  
  
"Surprise, surprise. What did you fight about?"  
  
Draco couldn't help the malicious smile he wore when he answered. "Our biggest fight was when Harry was jealous that I kissed Snape." Kicking off, he soared into the sky leaving Harry behind, dumbfounded.  
  
"Hey!" He heard Harry call behind him. "Are you still messing with me?"  
  
* * *  
  
"You can't do this," Harry shouted that night at Draco, who was currently lounging on the couch in the Gryffindor common room.  
  
The room had been full of Gryffindors when Draco had first entered, to the surprise of everyone. After telling Brown that he was impressed that she wasn't concerned with that unsightly blemish developing on her cheek, then informing Thomas that Peeves had somehow discovered where he was stashing his artwork, then looking at Longbottom in a way that made Neville rush for the door, there had been a mass exodus. The only ones that remained were Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco.  
  
"You can't barge in here whenever you feel like it," Harry continued.  
  
"Barge? I do not barge. Ron, you're my friend, do make yourself useful and stop Harry from insulting me."  
  
"I'm not your friend. And stop calling me Ron."  
  
'No, you're not my friend, are you Weasley? Would you like to be? I'll pay you."  
  
"You can't buy Ron's friendship," Hermione said, outraged.  
  
"No you can't," Ron agreed, then added, "How much money were you offering?"  
  
Hermione elbowed her boyfriend in the ribs.  
  
"I wasn't thinking of anything so crude as money," Draco drawled. "I thought perhaps you might like tickets to see the Chudley Cannons play."  
  
"Wow!" Ron exclaimed. Hermione glared at him and so he quickly feigned disinterest. "I mean my friendship isn't for sale."  
  
"Season tickets, in fact," Draco added.  
  
A whimper escaped from Ron and he clamped his mouth shut.  
  
Draco smirked. "With the use of the Malfoy box during at least one play- off game."  
  
Ron spun to face Hermione. "Please. It wouldn't be like I'd be best friends with him or anything."  
  
She shook her head.  
  
Sullenly, Ron turned to Draco. "My friendship isn't for sale. Now please excuse me while I go to my room and bang my head against the wall." With one last pleading glance at Hermione, who again shook her head, Ron went up the stairs.  
  
"How about you, Miss Granger? Is your friendship for sale?"  
  
Hermione sniffed. "Absolutely not."  
  
Draco rose from the couch and approached her. "As my friend, you could visit me at Malfoy Manor. Do you know what we have at Malfoy Manor?"  
  
"No, nor do I care to know."  
  
"We have a library."  
  
Hermione's eyes widened, but she said nothing. Draco continued his enticement as he moved closer.  
  
"Do you have any idea how many books there in the library at Malfoy Manor, Miss Granger?"  
  
"I do not."  
  
Draco leaned forward so that he could whisper in her ear. "Neither do I."  
  
Taking several steps away, Hermione raised her hand and pointed her finger at him. "You...you are an evil person."  
  
"I'm not. Truly I'm not. Well, yes, I suppose I am, but if I was extremely evil, I would have mentioned the vaults."  
  
"Vaults?"  
  
"Yes, where we keep the rarest and most unique books we own. Some volumes, I believe, might actually be one of a kind."  
  
Hermione's mouth dropped open.  
  
"Also in the vaults are stacks and stacks of scrolls written by centuries of Malfoys who believed their lives were so important that their memoirs should be preserved. Imagine the history. Imagine the knowledge. Imagine the conceit."  
  
"My..." Hermione took a deep breath, then continued. "My friendship is not for sale. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go help Ron."  
  
With a flare of her robes, Hermione escaped up the stairs. Draco smiled as he watched her leave, and then turned to face Harry.  
  
"Don't even think about it, Malfoy. I can't be bought."  
  
Draco stalked towards him, his soothing voice belying the warmth in his eyes. "What a pity."  
  
He moved closer and Harry fought the urge to step back. Draco was slightly pouting and Harry refused to acknowledge how his mouth seemed endlessly enthralling.  
  
"I was saving the very best for you," Draco murmured.  
  
Their faces were within inches of each other now. Harry swallowed hard. "What?"  
  
Draco's mouth came even closer.  
  
"Me."  
  
His breath brushed across Harry's lips and Harry quivered with anticipation. It would take only a slight movement forward for their mouths to meet. He could almost taste Draco. Almost feel him against him.  
  
Draco pulled away and it took Harry a moment to process the fact that they weren't going to kiss. That feeling was definitely, definitely not disappointment, Harry decided firmly.  
  
"Too bad, Harry Potter. It might have been fun." Draco said as he headed for the door. "Oh, and remember what I said a few days ago about your virtue being safe?"  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
"I lied." With a wink, Draco left.  
  
After the door shut behind Malfoy, Harry wondered if Ron and Hermione needed any help banging their heads on that wall.  
  
* * *  
  
At breakfast the next morning, Draco smiled as he sat down next to Harry, who only groaned a bit at his presence.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Ron asked around a mouthful of eggs.  
  
Draco handed a plateful of pastries to Ron, who absent-mindedly helped himself to two of them.  
  
"I thought the lot of you would be pleased to bask in the presence of the student who scored perfectly on the NEWTs." He reached for the tea and poured himself a cup.  
  
"You cheated." Hermione said.  
  
Draco placed both hands over his heart, as if swearing an oath. "I took the NEWTs straight forwardly and honestly. Both times."  
  
"There should be a rule against that." Hermione huffed.  
  
"Yes, shouldn't there," agreed Draco pleasantly, giving her his most charming smile before turning it on Harry. "And how are you this morning, Potter?"  
  
The smile made Harry feel strangely warm, so he covered it up with belligerence. "Why are you here, Malfoy?"  
  
"I wanted to discuss our date. For the Leaving Ball."  
  
Ron, who had been drinking juice, spat it out in reaction. Hermione got a bit of muffin caught in her throat. Harry turned bright red.  
  
"I won't...I mean I'm not dating you. I'm not even gay."  
  
"Of course, you're not, Potter. You're bisexual." Draco moved closer so that their faces were mere inches apart, his breath teasing over Harry's skin, his voice a low, husky murmur. "Now about our date."  
  
Underneath the table, Harry felt Draco's hand slide onto his thigh and let out a small yelp, which caused Hermione and Ron to give him puzzled looks.  
  
"I...I can't go with you. I already have a date with...with Ginny." Harry lied, spying Ron's sister further down the table.  
  
Hearing her name, Ginny turned to Harry.  
  
"We have a date for tonight, right Ginny? Right?" Harry urged, rolling his eyes at Draco, hoping Ginny would back him up.  
  
"Tonight? Oh, right...tonight. Yes, Harry and I are going together."  
  
Draco's hand crept a few inches further up Harry's leg when he leaned forward, staring hard at Ginny. "But that was before you came down with that horrible, disfiguring rash."  
  
Sensing the threat, Ginny gave Harry a little "I tried" shrug and went back to her breakfast.  
  
"That's right, she did, " stammered Harry. "Which is why I then asked Lavender."  
  
The hand was getting to dangerous territory now, territory that was growing by the second.  
  
Harry, seated next to Lavender, nudged her until she turned away from Parvati and looked at him. "I was just telling Draco that I asked you to the Leaving Ball," he blurted out.  
  
Lavender studied Harry's desperate face for a moment, then nodded. "Yes, he did ask me. It was quite romantic."  
  
"Which is why," Draco said in a menacing voice, "you were so terribly disappointed when those dire predictions came out about what would happen to you if you went with him.""  
  
"Oh. Right. I forgot about that. Sorry, Harry." Lavender quickly turned back to her friend.  
  
Frustrated, Harry glared at Draco. "Are you going to threaten everyone I plan to go out with?"  
  
The hand underneath the table cupped him, then squeezed lightly.  
  
"Am I going to have to?"  
  
Harry closed his eyes and let out a small groan. "Fine. You win." Harry opened his eyes, ignoring Hermione and Ron's horrified gasps. "Malfoy, will you go with me to the Leaving Ball?"  
  
"Why, Potter, I thought you'd never ask." The hand was removed and Draco stood up, flashing a wide smile. "Come for me around eight. Oh, and Potter, do try and make an effort with your hair. I have standards."  
  
Life was easier, Harry decided, when Voldemort was after him. At least all Voldemort wanted to do to him was kill him.  
  
* * *  
  
The stares had stopped. Now there were only a few sidelong glances and whispers that followed Harry and Draco as they stood next to each other at the Leaving Ball.  
  
Although Draco had issued the most grievous threats he could think of if anyone was impolite to Harry, he still made sure that he was ready to go when Potter showed up at the Slytherin dormitories.  
  
He complimented Harry on his robes and manfully bit back comments on the rest of his appearance. Harry, however, had not returned the compliments despite the fact that Draco had done his best to be even more devastating than normal.  
  
That pattern continued once they entered the Great Hall. Draco would say something he deemed polite. Harry would ignore it. He'd tried asking if Harry wanted punch or a canapé, no reply. Draco had even gone so far as to state that Granger and Weasley made a handsome couple. Again, silence. Finally, Draco had had enough.  
  
"Come now, Potter, I realise that my glowing presence has rendered you speechless, but do try and grunt once in a while, so that I'll know you're still sentient."  
  
"Go to hell, Malfoy."  
  
Draco tried to school his features, but couldn't at hearing the echo of the other Harry's words. He could feel the blood drain from his face and could see Harry staring at him in confusion. His grace disappeared as he stumbled back.  
  
"I'm...I'm sorry, Potter" he stuttered.  
  
Harry looked astonished as Draco turned and made his way to the doors, but Draco didn't care. He needed to get away, needed to breathe. He headed out the doors and kept going until he came to the field near Hagrid's hut where in another world, he and Harry had slain the basilisk, where he and Harry had kissed. Breathing hard, he stared at the sky, wondering how to make the pain go away.  
  
He heard a noise behind him and realised he'd been followed. It had to be Potter, still doing his bit to save everyone.  
  
"What's wrong?" Harry asked quietly, coming to stand next to him.  
  
Draco wanted to lie, wanted to come up with some scathing comment that would send Potter scurrying back to his friends, tail between his legs. He opened his mouth, wanting to emit a venomous comment, but instead a sob choked out, which he quickly stifled, but not quickly enough.  
  
"Draco? Tell me."  
  
"G-Go to hell, Malfoy, was the last thing the other Harry said to me." Draco heard Potter's harsh intake of breath. "I'd found out that the spell that had sent me there was wearing off. I had to tell him, warn him. He...he thought I was abandoning him. That I wanted to leave him."  
  
Draco let out a shuddery exhalation. "I would never have left him, if I'd had a choice."  
  
Reaching out, Harry placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.  
  
Draco continued to stare at the sky. "I shouldn't have done this. Shouldn't have coerced you into coming to the Leaving Ball with me. You're not him. I know that. I just...just wanted to make it better somehow. Better for me. Better for him. God, he was in so much pain."  
  
"He'll get over it," Harry said quietly.  
  
"You don't know that." Draco gave a rueful, bitter laugh. "I don't even know if I'll get over it."  
  
"The other Draco...he wasn't so bad."  
  
Draco turned to Harry and lifted an eyebrow. "Is that supposed to make me feel better? Thinking that he'll be fine substituting me with my twin?"  
  
"Well, isn't that what you were trying to do with me?"  
  
There was a long pause before Draco answered quietly. "Perhaps." Once again, Draco stared at the stars. When Harry's hand on his shoulder pulled him closer, into an embrace, it surprised him, but he said nothing. It felt comforting, standing there, and holding each other, the music from the Ball drifting out from the Great Hall.  
  
Harry cleared his throat and pulled back a fraction. "Malfoy, seeing as to how you roped me into this date, we probably should make the best of it, don't you think?"  
  
Draco shrugged, so Harry continued.  
  
"This is my last Ball at Hogwarts and I'd kind of like to dance. Dance with me?"  
  
"I don't take pity, Potter. Or give it, for that matter."  
  
Harry moved so that Draco could see his face. "This isn't pity. Dance with me."  
  
Retreating out of Harry's arms, Draco shook his head. "I won't."  
  
Harry closed the distance between them. "You will."  
  
There was a familiar look of determination on Harry's face. It was the look that said nothing was going to stop him and a hum of anticipation went through Draco. Of course, he wasn't going to make it easy on Potter.  
  
He took another step back and Harry followed with a step forward.  
  
"No."  
  
"Yes."  
  
As Draco began to step away again, Harry grabbed him by the hips, pulling him forward, leaving no room between their bodies.  
  
Leaning close, he whispered in Draco's ear, "Dance with me," before capturing the lobe in his teeth, nipping it. His lips nibbled at the soft skin covering Draco's jaw, then moved to taste the flesh of the neck. "Dance with me," he repeated, his voice muffled.  
  
A moan escaped from Draco when he felt Harry's teeth lightly bite his skin.  
  
Damn, Draco thought, Harry fights dirty. He let a grin slowly spread across his face. "Since you've begged so nicely, I suppose I will," Draco drawled.  
  
As they headed back to the Ball, giving each other speculative looks, Draco decided that this relationship might work out, after all.  
  
* * *  
  
"The last thing I remember was my father dying to save me." Draco sighed. "I do hope Harry, the other one, managed to make it through."  
  
Harry was visiting him as he lay on his bed in the infirmary recovering from wounds received in another world. School was out and most of the students had packed and left already. Draco suspected that the only reason Ron, Hermione, and Harry were still around was due to him, and he was quite grateful for it.  
  
"I'm sure the other Draco helped him," Harry's reply was quiet and firm.  
  
"I'm not so certain. That Harry seemed to dislike me with great intensity. I got the impression that the feeling was mutual."  
  
Harry leaned forward and took Draco's hand in his. "Trust me. He was helped."  
  
Draco looked pointedly down at their joined hands and Harry slowly withdrew his hand.  
  
At one point, the other Draco had evidently given Hermione a letter that explained about the different worlds. When Harry had found Draco the night of the storm, broken and bleeding from several wounds, and moaning about Voldemort, the letter had been helpful in discovering what must have happened.  
  
Later, after he'd gained consciousness, he'd been a bit bewildered by the fact that his girlfriend now belonged to his best friend and that everyone knew he was gay. He was gay, but it was strange for it to be considered an accepted fact of life.  
  
It hadn't taken him too long in the other dimension to realise that his counterpart was also gay. That first night, when he'd told his fellow Slytherins that he was going to bed, he'd received a quite interesting and detailed offer of company from a male sixth year.  
  
Now, as he recovered, Ron and Hermione visited him often, usually accompanied by Harry. This time, they'd left him alone in Harry's company, wearing sly smiles that caused him to suspect that the other Draco had done a bit more than making a general announcement of his sexuality.  
  
"It was the strangest thing, really," Draco said. "I kept trying and trying to convince them that I was on their side, but the more they rebuffed me, the more antagonistic I became."  
  
Tentatively, he placed a fingertip on Harry's unmarked forehead.  
  
"You, the other you, had a scar shaped like a lightning bolt caused by Voldemort. I told him that it must actually be the letter "N", and it stood for nitwit."  
  
Harry suppressed a laugh. "I'm sure that went over well."  
  
"Even worse, each day afterwards I greeted him with a new insult beginning with N. Numskull, nimrod, nincompoop."  
  
Unable to hold it back any longer, Harry began to laugh. After a moment, he managed to control it enough to speak. "I can't imagine why they didn't immediately rush to you with open arms."  
  
Draco sniffed, "Yes, it is quite difficult to understand," then smiled. "I truly acted impossible. And all I wanted was to be Harry's friend."  
  
For a moment, they both looked at the covers on the bed, avoiding the others' eyes.  
  
Draco had fuzzy memories of a distraught Harry leaning over him in the rain as he writhed in agony from his injuries. As he'd healed there'd also been several times when he'd managed to open his eyes to find Harry stationed in a chair next to his bed, rubbing his elbow, just as he was now. Draco decided that the constant elbow rubbing must be a nervous habit.  
  
"You and the other Draco...you were friends with him, weren't you?" Draco ventured slowly.  
  
Harry swallowed hard. "We were more than friends. Much more."  
  
"Oh." After a pause, "Would you consider, perhaps, being friends with me?"  
  
"I think we could try."  
  
"Seeing how you're a Slytherin, should I list you under sycophants or goons?" Draco smirked and Harry's breath caught in his throat at the familiar sight.  
  
Finding a spot on Draco's arm that wasn't covered with bandages, Harry punched it lightly.  
  
"Ow!" Draco rubbed at his arm, pretended the blow had hurt. "You're very physical. Goon, it is."  
  
"Git," Harry said affectionately.  
  
"Prat."  
  
Maybe, Harry thought, maybe this relationship might work out, after all.  
  
* * *  
  
Epilogue – One year later  
  
"Potter, get a move on. We're supposed to be there soon."  
  
"I'm not going." Harry stood against the bedroom door with his arms folded across his chest as he watched Draco get dressed to go out. "It's going to be full of Slytherins."  
  
"Of course, it will. The baptism of my goddaughter and namesake will naturally be well attended."  
  
"I can't believe Blaise and Millicent named her after you."  
  
"I can't believe that the baby's cute, in total defiance of her breeding."  
  
"I don't care how cute she is, I'm still not going. Do you know how they treat me?"  
  
Draco's eyes narrowed and his tone switched from teasing to menacing. "Has someone threatened you?"  
  
"I wish," Potter said and Draco noticeably relaxed. "Threats I could handle."  
  
"Then what is it? I go to all your little Gryffindor gatherings and make nice with your friends."  
  
"You never make nice, Draco. If you did, Ron wouldn't love the way Percy, George, and Fred make themselves scarce whenever you're around."  
  
"Just because I had that Rebounding of Pranks charm on me—"  
  
"Actually, I think it was the time you hexed George and Fred to get erections every time Percy walked into the room."  
  
"Well," Draco said, smiling at the memory, "Percy Weasley is a fine figure of a man. Besides, it's not just Ron who likes me. You know that Hermione adores me. I believe she wants to have my babies."  
  
"If you mean 'books' when you say 'babies', you might be right," Harry grumbled. He let out a frustrated sigh. "Did you know at that last week's dinner, Pansy actually patted me on the head?"  
  
"Is that all, Potter? They simply like you. After the great, heroic Harry Potter gave an impassioned speech praising notions of forgiveness and unity in the Wizard community, their lives became much easier."  
  
"They don't act like they like me. They act more like...." Harry looked suspiciously at Draco as the truth dawned on him. "They act like I'm a pet."  
  
Draco began coughing. "Really? I'm sure you must be misinterpreting their actions."  
  
"I don't think so. It would explain the 'you're a good boy' remarks I've been hearing."  
  
"You mean you haven't been a good boy?"  
  
Harry advanced on a smirking Draco. "What did you tell them?"  
  
"Nothing. Truly it was nothing. I might have said something about how you fetch my tea for me each morning and greet me every day when I arrive home from work and that...that perhaps everyone should have a Gryffindor of their own."  
  
Harry pushed Draco. Hard.  
  
"You know," Draco continued, laughing, "for companionship and protection. Not too bright, but highly trainable."  
  
Harry pushed Draco again; causing him to fall onto the bed, then quickly straddled him. The laughter dropped from Draco's face to be replaced by lustful anticipation.  
  
"Not to mention how incredibly affectionate they tend to be." Draco threaded his hands through Harry's hair, and then pulled him down so that their mouths met.  
  
They ended up arriving late for the baptism, flushed and unkempt. It was only afterwards that Draco realised that the robe he'd thrown on wasn't his. It belonged to Harry.  
  
He was once again a Slytherin in Gryffindor clothing.  
  
Draco decided that he could live with it.  
  
The End  
  
I would like to thank my two betas, Aoibhail and A Boy for all of their hard work.  
  
I would also like to thank everyone who reviewed. I love feedback and have been so thrilled by the response all of you have given my first Harry Potter story.  
  
Additionally, if you have any questions or comments that you'd like for me to address, my e-mail is mahaliem@yahoo.com or you can leave your e-mail address in your review and I'll try to get back to you. 


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